


Lord and Hunter (Or: The Trials in Choul)

by OrgroWritingStuff



Series: Lord and Hunter (Or: The Trials in Choul) [1]
Category: Lord and Hunter
Genre: Action/Adventure, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Demons, Ancient History, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Dark Fantasy, Demonic Possession, Dwarves, F/M, Fantasy, Gnolls, Half-orc, Historical Fantasy, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Other, Padlock needs hugs, Partial Nudity, Prophecy, Sumerian Mythology - Freeform, Tieflings, Trans Male Character, Violence, Worldbuilding, he baby, he didn't deserve this, slight nsfw, sword and sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrgroWritingStuff/pseuds/OrgroWritingStuff
Summary: Awoken all by himself with odd green horns and a spiked tail, atop an altar in the middle of a barren and dangerous land, a reborn thief without memory sets out to find answers as to what happened to him, and how to stop this new divine curse festering in his body.On his side: A fierce outcast Gnoll, a devout Half-Orc paladin and an eccentric Dwarven bandit, each with their own past, secrets and their own reasons.In his way: A land full of bloodthirsty beasts, crazed cultists and the wrath of the gods themselves.(Unsuitable for younger audiences. Contains mentions/depictions of violence, bloodshed, demonic possession or otherwise occult happenings, dysphoria, death, crimes, religion, some slight sexual themes (like nudity), in-world xeno-and other-phobias, and vulgar language. Reader discretion is advised.)-Originally made by me on Wattpad. Had little succes there so decided to move it to here instead. I hope this proves more successful.-
Relationships: Einkill & Padlock, Einkill & Therr, Einkill/Morg, Morg/Einkill, Padlock & Einkill, Padlock & Morg, Padlock & Therr, Therr & Einkill, Therr & Morg, Therr & Padlock
Series: Lord and Hunter (Or: The Trials in Choul) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602130





	1. The Forbidden Deathlands (Prologue) & The Awakened Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaretha, royal scribe of Phantasia, describes an ancient tale to her two listeners; the princess and her protector.   
> Hundreds of years earlier, our protagonist Padlock awakens under mysterious circumstances, and has to find a way off the accursed ground he ended up on...

(Prologue: The Forbidden Deathlands)

"Come gather round," _Said the royal scribe,_ "And let me tell you a tale of long, long before any of us set foot on the grounds we now call home."

"Let me tell you of the land of Choul. The Deathlands North to Alvea, bordered by dark coiling seas from all but the south, where the mountains instead prevent any and every soul from entering. Where the sun would not shine gently, if even at all, but with burning malice and scorching rays of hatred. For in the Deathlands of Choul, there reside the ones that are deemed too evil to coexist with us. Dropped out of the sky from the back of a black dragon they are, to live out the rest of their lives in communities of their own without a chance of ever coming back. Where there are deserts so stormy that even the carrion get swept away, forests so dark and overgrown that you'll not progress a day's travel within a single week. Where the grasslands teem with monsters and wildmen alike, ready to hunt down any intruder found by their scent alone. It is a land of all kinds of twisted races that have not seen the green grass of our homeland for generations. They shun the silvery sunlight as if it could cut them clean through, for they are beings conceived by pure darkness. Gnolls live there in abundance still, as do orgr's, and burrowing death-worms, and gods-forbid: The children of shadows."

_At the table sat a girl and a boy. The girl, a princess, was jotting down word after word what the scribe had said, with genuine curious interest. The scribe, a young-looking woman, delicately held an old scroll in her hands. It seemed like it could fall apart with one hard tug. More scrolls laid on the table, as this was obviously not a simple one-paged story. This was a tale that lasted for many centuries._

_The boy, on the other hand, did not seem too interested in this talk of deadly environments and dangerous races. As the princess' protector he'd seen more than enough of that already. He spent more time looking at the dagger at the edge of the table than he did paying attention. He did not read, for he'd already read enough today. He sighed and looked at the scribe, leaning back in his pillowed chair._

"And.... When's this story going to get interesting?" _The boy asked._

 _A sly smile curled the scribe's gentle lips._ "Just you wait. The tale I am about to tell you is one of a forgotten legend. Long-forgotten in fact. This happened five-hundred years prior to your ancestor adventuring with his Fellowship of the Six Fantasies. But that is a later tale, for another time."

"What is this story going to be about then?" _The boy sighed. He leaned with his shoulders on the table, making the chair's legs drop to the floor with a hard thud. The princess merely kept copying the scribe's words. And once again the scribe smiled, sliding her finger on the lines of the scroll._

"A lord... And his hunters." _Said the scribe._ "Journeys to ancient, far-off places, magic and monsters, overcoming trials and the importance of friendship. A voyage to the tallest mountain in Choul... Iclah, The Dark Peak. Deep within Iclah, whispers said, were two treasures so forbidden that any mortal who touched them would be doomed beyond redemption. Yet, that treasure was what would eventually drive this lord and his hunters into legend..."

"This tale begins with a forbidden god. Unuthar was his name. And in Choul, Unuthar had gathered a cult of people who worshipped him. Those people, who were named the 'Ihol-Kohkol-Thoth', had banded together for a secret ritual. A ritual involving lots of sacrifices." _The scribe shuddered._ "And if they succeeded, Unuthar could be returned to them in the flesh."

 _She cleared her throat. "_ A mass of cultists, dressed in long velvety robes, had gathered around the massive altar in the wastelands beyond the dark cliff. Here no being, safe from them, dared even set foot. Some carried torches, some had tall bony horns sticking out of their head, glowing as green as the vortex of clouds above them. But all of them sang a chant. A haunting melody that would aid their Lord in emerging from his prison of nothingness. It was time. Months and years of planning had finally paid off. Here they all were, at long, long last. Tonight, Unuthar would live once more. A robed group of three ascended the many steps of the horned altar, slowly stepping upwards past the brightly-lit pillar-like horns... At the top on a stony cold bed lay a boy, unconscious and dressed in nought but ceremonial red robes which only covered his waist-area and his shoulders.. He was the sacrifice. For Unuthar to live, the blood of a sinner would be required to flow down the many steps. The three robed ones would do the gruesome honours."

_"Riapsed, my dark brother. Are you ready?"_

_"Yes, brother Modugno."_ The two removed their hoods. Grim leathery faces with green veins sprawled across them. No hair, only waves of small horns and long grey ears. _"Tonight shall happen what we have waited so many years for to happen. Tonight Unuthar shall lead us. He shall forge us a way south, so that we may escape this place."_

_"Indeed he shall. Brother Mattyor, take your knife. Tonight we take this poor sinner's life."_

Brother Mattyor, who had not yet taken of his hood, stared at the boy. His unseen hands, hidden in its long velvety sleeves, started shaking. 

_"Brother Mattyor?"_ Hissed Riapsed. But no response. Now the priests with the green veins were getting unnerved. _"Is something the matter? Did you forget your knife? I have one here for you-"_

 _"For Görne."_ Hummed the hooded Mattyor. The green clouds above them crackled with a streak of red lightning. He slowly moved his hands...

 _"What-What was that?!"_ Modugno asked, gasping for air. _"The name of another god! Blasphemy! Heresy! SLAY HIM!"_

But before either of the priests could respond, Brother Mattyor threw off his hood. Pale-white eyes sunken back in a purpur skin. A wildly flicking tail. _"For Lord Görne."_ The red lightning above crackled again. Mattyor rushed towards the two priests and in a wild flurry of movement tried cutting through them. Riapsed and Modugno engulfed themselves in a haze of green and spread their ghastly claws out to the traitor. They hit him. Mattyor fell down the massive altar all while shouting the name of his god. _"GÖÖÖÖÖRNE!"_

The red lightning hit him before Mattyor hit the red, cultist-swarmed ground, taking a handful of cultists down with him. Still on the top of the steps, Riapsed and Modugno saw the red lightning strike down more and more cultists around them and began to get worried, their green hue not leaving them. 

_"All our brothers!"_ Riapsed yelled, grabbing his own knife with his near-skeletal hands. He hastened over to the boy on the altar to deliver the final blow. 

_"The ritual required sacrifices anyhow, brother!"_ Modugno called back. _"Quick!"_ The red thunder rumbled louder and louder right above their heads....

Nobody was sure wether the ritual-knife or the red lightning was the first to hit the poor boy. Though what we can all agree on was that, on that dreadful day, that boy's life was not about to get any less strange..."

(Chapter 1: The Awakened Duality) 

_'' "For the unholy ceremony, the Ritual of the Return would be established at the Altar of Unuthar. The nestling of the forsaken Unuthar would take place there. The Hallowing Harpy would come, the Taloned Terror would come. Both the Green Birds would come. It was just like their age-old prophecies. The Ihol-Kohkol-Thoth would come." ''_

Margaretha recited from the scroll. The boy sighed, leaned back more into his chair and played with a stray pen at the edge of the table. _ **"And where's the interesting part going to be?"**_ The princess besides him took a quick break from writing down what she heard and said _ **"Sssh."**_ to him. Then she continued writing. Margaretha's smirk only widened. _**"Yes, yes. Soon. Not everything from this legend will be told as if that was all it was. You'll find that out yourself, now listen..."**_

\----

The boy on the altar awoke with a groan, and a feeling of needles in his head while a red haze sunk over his eyes. His stomach was empty and he felt pretty dizzy... Not to mention the extra weight that he felt on his head and at the end of his spine. It took him a while to gather his consciousness.

 **"Urrrrgh..... What the hell was in _that_ drink?"** The boy slowly sat up straight, and rubbed his aching head. His hand shocked back from time to time, as if he was static. His half-daze quickly got slapped out when he found the source of the weight on his head.

Two green, curved horns.

He touched them with his still-static hand and felt a painful zap. He gasped in pain and pulled the hand back in reflex. Even more confused than before, he finally gained enough sense to look around. And oh, was he baffled by what he saw.

He was all alone at the top of a damned-looking altar, with giant green horns, like his, protruding from the step's sides. All around him, the boy spotted charred figures lying still and smoking on the red and dusty floor. He was the only one here. And the only one alive for that matter. The sky was almost as red... Were it not for the giant stormy cloud of green right above his head. No red. All of it was green, lighter green, and darker shades of green.

The boy looked at the thing in awe, and immediately felt a buzz in his new horns. This dizzied him. **"Where-.... What the fuck kind of crazy festival did I land in now? This doesn't feel right at all..."** Bracing himself, he let his legs dangle from the cold stone bed. Before he could stand, he noticed his heart beginning to thump loudly.

As he looked at himself the boy turned even dizzier. Right in the middle of his chest was the symbol of a skull, baring fangs and horns and a look full of malice. Three vague lines went horizontally through the skull, in the shape of weapons. This caught him so off-guard that he nearly fell over... Were it not for the counter-balance behind his legs.

 **"A tail,"** He sighed as he looked behind him. **"As if these weird green things weren't already weird enough."** He clumsily swished the tail around, moving his legs along with it. The boy turned back, and his head leaned on his hands, as his elbows leaned on his knees. He stared over the empty red desert and the charred corpses around the temple. **"What the hell do I do now?"**

With a huff, he tried to rake back the thoughts of where he'd been before all... This. Who he was, where he was before, what was in that last drink he bought at that back-alley inn... He could slightly remember, but only slightly. But that was enough for him.

 **"I am Padlock. And I am a thief. Or, well... That's what I was. 'Cause I'm not sure what all this is."** He felt the roughened-up red fabric he wore on his shoulders and over his waist. Its edges were black with soot. **"I come from the Shadow-City. I am... A shadow-mutant?"** Nearly immediately he felt a chill creep down his spine. He wasn't sure wether that was a good sign, or bad. And he didn't want to stick around, under this green scary cloud, to find out. He jumped down from the lightning-darkened stone bed, but felt no feeling in his footing, so about as soon as he jumped up he fell back down. He rolled and rolled over the stone steps whilst shouting bloody murder, and then when he roughly landed on the dusty red ground he coughed, and its sand and mudded blood spattered where he fell.

**"That hurt."**

By the time he got up something had happened to the cloud. With a harsh wind that nearly made Padlock topple over again the green cloud drifted away from the shrine, and from him. Padlock rubbed his eyes in disbelief when he spotted two bird-like spirits, screeching in unison and flapping their wings to stay alongside the deadly green mass. Just looking at that toxic green... Thing, made his stomach hurt. He bent over and closed his eyes shut, groaning in pain. **"Something tells me I need to stay the hell away from that cloud."** Padlock thought out loud, and as he slowly stepped over all the charred priests, he was blissfully unaware that these people all gathered and died here.... For him. Even more blissfully unaware was Padlock of the fact that, not only he was alive, but that he had also gotten powers that lay far beyond his comprehension.

Powers that would soon awake within him.

As he left the damned and corpse-filled altar behind, another crack of lightning struck the green mass of cloud which was far away in the distance. It made him flinch and duck away out of instinct. More lightning, tinted red, crackled after the toxic green cloud, as if it was chasing it. One stray strike hit the side of the cloud, and made the two green bird-spirits screech and flap their wings faster, circling the cloud and trying to bite at the lightning.

Padlock smirked at the sight. Whatever was happening there, he was overjoyed he had no part in it. But oh, how wrong he was. He had no idea just how wrong.

He walked and walked over the burning dusty sandstone grounds, which were as dark-red as the robes he now wore. The ground crackled here, that's how dry it was, and showed crevices which slowly got bigger and deeper until the point where he had to take running starts and jump over them to get further away from the altar he'd woken up at. When Padlock looked at the sky time after time he saw no difference in its colour. It remained a rouge-ish red with not a cloud in the sky. **"That big green one must have scared them all away."** He laughed it off but still felt pretty unnerved about everything that happened, and that what he couldn't remember. The green horns on his head didn't help him one bit. At the end of the sandstone was where he stopped. He couldn't walk, run, or jump on any more. There was a big cliff in his way.

Padlock stared at the green cloud which was now but a tiny crumb on the horizon. The red flashes still struck the cloud time after time.

 **"It doesn't seem like there it anything but more piles of dust when I walk the other way... So despite that sickening green cloud, I need to get to the other side."** He grabbed a small pebble and threw it into the endless crevice below **. "But how do I get over here..."** Padlock pondered, walking along the cliffside. He still had to get used to the tail which he now dragged behind him like a sack of fish. It bothered him, because the thing often got stuck in one of the cracks of the ravine. Padlock kept staring at the ground beneath him, and at the cliff that had no bottom, and at the other side far, far away. He saw grass grow there, and when the green cloud had vanished completely out of sight, he felt a gentle breeze from the other side reach him. It smelled of dry grass, of arid heat and of... Beasts. Padlock sneezed to get the beast-scent out of his nose. He then straightened himself and kept looking at the other side of the cliff, and at the wind that waved into his face, as if that could provide an answer.

 **"You've gotten this far, Padlock. Now we just need to get out of here."** He mumbled to himself. He wouldn't have guessed that the wind, of all things, would talk back to him.

 **"You could try flying."** The sound wafted past his ears. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he nearly lost his footing a second time, only a step away from the endless abyss in front of him. **"You witnessed those green birds just now, did you? Repeat what you saw. Only then will you get over this cliff."** Padlock huffed at the voice, taking another step backwards. Again that tingle down his spine, and an unsure churning in his stomach. **"And tell me why I would trust wind that talks to me? Why am I here, anyway?!"** Padlock angered himself at the wind, his wrists shaking and his horns pounding and drilling into his head. It hurt.

 **"I wouldn't worry about that now, young one. I was only here to save you from being killed."** The wind spoke, low yet soft. **"Now get going, or you won't ever find your answers."** Padlock sarcastically nodded at the wind, that was tugging his legs and pulling his hair. It had gotten a stronger pull. **"Alright then, Mr. Wind-Man, whoever you may be. And how will you guarantee that I won't turn green?"** He laughed that last part off but still felt an uneasy tickle in his stomach. It didn't feel good. **"Hmmmmmpf. A salted youth. Grand."** The wind tugged harder at Padlock's robes to the point of him almost falling over. It yanked and pulled and Padlock used his tail for the first time to stay standing. Then the wind lay still. For a while.

 **"Be ensured that you will not. I can guarantee you this."** The wind now said. **"Trust my promise. I will grant you the gift of crossing this gap, if you can will it."** And as Padlock saw how stuck he was now, he had no other options than to trust the wind, however weird he found that.

 **"Step back. So much that you have a running-chance."** The wind told him. And Padlock did so, with mixed trust. His head was brimming with questions still, and yet empty of memory. He could not help but trust -yet not- the wind, at the same time. The horns, especially, seemed to hum almost agitatedly to him, like a bell that was struck too hard. Padlock gritted his teeth. **"Now run to the cliff, and close your eyes."** Padlock was slapped out of the clutter in his own mind, his questions now only consisting of one word:

**"WHAT?!"**

**"Do as I say. The wings I shall give you will help you over this, and many other gaps."** The wind now seemed to growl. A faraway crack of thunder rumbled further into the plains, and a bird screeched. **"Hurry."** Padlock gulped. He didn't want to jump to his death already! He'd just gotten here!... Wherever this was.

He didn't want this... But he knew he had to. He gulped and dusted up clouds of sand as he shut his eyes and ran to the edge of the ravine. **"Hey,"** he thought. **"If I close my eyes, it's not all that bad! I can just imagine that I am a thief again. I am on the roof of a building, jumping to another roof!"** That thought cleared his doubts, and when he heard the crackle of ground both he and the wind yelled **"Jump!"** Wind enveloped him...

It wrapped itself around Padlock with a firm though ethereal embrace, and Padlock felt nothing under his feet as he kept running, over the ravine, with the wind around him holding him up. He didn't fall! The wind kept his promise! Out of pure relief Padlock started laughing, mostly to un-stress himself. Almost out of here! He wanted to open his eyes but the wind almost seemed to cut into him. **"NO! Keep them closed until I say you can open them!"** The shaken-up Padlock could only comply, he still felt no solid ground under him and he did not feel like falling into any abysses today. He was a little confused with the sudden sound of flapping leather, but ignored it. The wind got him over, this must've been his doing.

 **"Open your eyes."** Said the wind eventually. And so Padlock did. What he saw next lifted his spirits and filled him with awe, washing away all the doubts and itches he had. Plains! Plains spanning to the horizon, where there were rolling hills. But this was all plains, and Padlock flew and soared over them to his heart's delight, wind in his hair, widely smiling, rolling and swooping while grazing barely over the grass-tops. Dry grass stood and rustled under him, in the wind that now lay still. Wait... What? Padlock looked around and discovered where the noise of the leather was coming from...

Wings! Leathery wings! He had been _flying_ over these plains! This shocked him so that he squeaked -not screamed- and wildly waved his arms -and thus, his wings- around, in more confusion than before. He plummeted to the grass on the ground and landed with a thump, a rustle, and a squeak.

From the knee-height grass, soon the form of the boy appeared, with his tail and his horns. He laughed, for he was still impressed and shaken-up by the whole ordeal. Padlock looked at the dark-red evening sky, now slowly fading to black. A first star was already seen. The night was finally coming. The wind blew at his back now, away from him and into the hills. Out of breath and widely smiling, Padlock called out to the wind; **"Well, uh... Thank you for that! Who are you anyway? Or are you _actually_ the wind?" **He plucked bits of dry grass out of his hair.

He wasn't sure, but he heard the wind chuckle as it flew away from him. **"I am someone you can trust... You will hear my name soon enough."** Padlock snuffed the air, a bit unhappy with his lack of a real response. **"I have heard yours enough times already, Padlock."** That caught the boy off-guard. His heart thumped and he stepped back a little in response. **"No... No problem. No biggie."** He huffed. **"Lots of people probably did."** He chuckled, filled with unease, and stood slightly more relieved when the wind chuckled along with him. **"So they have. But that is not the name you will be most remembered by."** Padlock stopped laughing and looked at the hills. With nothing else to do, he began walking. Maybe Padlock was trying to catch up with the wind, to hear more from it as its wisps drifted away. **"This shall not be our last meeting, but it will take us some time to meet again. Go to the hills. You will find someone who can help you there. Someone who is in my good graces..."** Another shiver went through Padlock's body as the now-colder wind carried the sound of a canid howl from across the hills, far away. **"Whatever it is, Mr. Wind... I hope it isn't _that_."** The wind chuckled once more. **"You will see for yourself. Farewell- And, oh! How could I forget,"** From out of nowhere, a black cloth fell straight at Padlock's face. He fell down and his tail flicked the thing off. It was a black robe, covering the arms and the back, with little bits of bronzen string to close it from the front. **"A gift to keep you out of the cold."** Padlock smiled as he put on the black robe. **"Thanks, Mr. Wind. See ya!"** And just like that, the wind was gone, and it was night. Padlock was alone. He kept walking through the knee-high grass and towards the hills, his arms clutching his robe, the reeds of the grass flicking against his tail and his bare feet getting dusted and pricked by the ground, and he kept hoping that 'Mr. Wind' would at least keep the source of that howling away from him. **"As if this day couldn't get any damn weirder."**

\-----

(The first part of this chapter was inspired by this, which I only came back upon today. I figured it'd fit. Hope you all like this part <3 (no copyright-infringement intended- are those books even copyrighted?

**"The katun is established at Chichen Itza. The settlement of the Itza shall take place there. The quetzal shall come, the green bird shall come. Ah Kantenal shall come. It is the word of God. The Itza shall come."**

-The **Books of Chilam Balam** )


	2. The Beast On The Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padlock encounters a dangerous beast-man on his travels. Things do not quite go as planned after that...

The night had grown even darker. The winds blew cold and the ground was starting to hurt Padlock's feet, he was tired and hungry and thirsty, but that was among the least of his problems. Getting up the hills before him, that was a bigger one. 

He did climb the first set of hills nonetheless, knowing he couldn't go back to that... Other place. The grass grew higher and soon after prickled in his face. He sputtered when some of the reeds got into his mouth, or stuck in his hair. Some reeds stung him more than the others, and when Padlock touched his face he remembered why. Scars. He wasn't sure how they got there but those were from a faraway time, one he couldn't remember. He didn't want to either. He shook away the thought and kept climbing, tiring himself out even more. When he actually got up the first hill he saw a discouraging sight;

In the dark of the night he spotted a trail of smoke at a hill further off, only a short while away from him. There was something alive here with him, good news. But still, those noises from before, the howls and now the whoops, they were heard more often, and longer too. Bad news. It gave Padlock the shivers. He wrapped his arms around himself even tighter and rubbed them heavily, the black robe giving but mere protection from the wind. 

Padlock was cold still, hungry and oh-so tired. Without rest, he would most likely die. 

**"Friendly or not, I have to find out who that tent belongs to."** Padlock thought to himself, murmuring the words under his breath. He'd stood still all that time to look at the tent and listen for sounds, his tail keeping him from falling faint of fatigue. **"And if they're not friendly, I'll just...-"** He shivered again and had to wait for his words to not shiver along. **"I-I'll turn into a bat-thing once again, and I'll get out of here. H-Here's hoping for the best..."** He descended the first hill, and went on to the next. Only a couple more before he would end up at the tent... 

Padlock hummed to himself to keep him calm. A song he he thought he remembered, but from what he couldn't tell. The closer the horned once-thief got to the tent, the more he noticed the rancid smell around. Rotten flesh and something else... 

**"Ah, piss."** Padlock grit his teeth. Feces were dropped around the base of the hill, climbing upwards. From time to time he saw a bug half the size of his hand roll one of the feces downhill. He stifled a laugh as the curve of the hill made the feces-ball gain momentum until the bug lost control and rolled down the hill, dragging the ball along. **"The poor owner of that tent must be stuck here or something-"** Padlock thought. He felt bad for the owner but didn't think yelling out **'Hello?'** would be handy here, especially with these beast-noises around.He braced himself as he climbed the final hill, to get to the top where the grass was trampled flat. He noticed a trail of where the grass grew no more, where footprints were stuck. Footprints that looked very much like an animal. His breath stoked in his throat as he heard another howl, this time somewhere behind him. He turned halfway to see what it was. Nothing but rustling dry grass. **"Hey, stop that. I'm only trying to find a place to sleep tonight!"** He called out to the grass. But no response came, not even the wind. Another nasty buzz from his green horns made Padlock put a hand to his head in annoyance, then grumble and walk it off. **"Beast or no beast, I have to sleep."**

This hill wasn't the tallest, but it was wide. Wide enough for a small camp, now that Padlock had crawled up top. Out of breath and shivering cold he looked upon a crudely-created camp. Many long thorny sticks stuck in the ground to create some sort of fence, and behind that fence was a small tent. Rocks and sacks, filled with something unseen from this angle, lay near the tent, which wasn't much more than a long ragged cloth, torn with holes and held up by a few long sticks. It had animal-hides underneath it, functioning as a bed. Now Padlock also understood where the smell came from... Droppings lay around the fences as well. **"A dog? The person living here probably has a dog, then. Alright. If that's their thing..."** Another shiver as Padlock carefully stepped forward to slip past the fence. He cracked on a twig as his hand touched the first thorny stick. Its snap was heard across the cold night. **"Shit!"** He hissed under his breath as he tried to take another step around. But he stopped as soon as he heard something stomp behind him. 

**"What's you doing here?"** Asked a low growling voice. It didn't sound like words, more like snarls attempting to be words through a rough muzzle. A cold sweat raced past Padlock's back, and he felt his tail drop to the floor. The horned boy had his hands still raised, his head still forward, but he didn't blink, and he didn't look back. He was frozen in fear. Padlock was glad it was night, for if he had seen the shadow of this thing doom over him he would have fallen unconscious. Two hairy hands grabbed Padlock by his shoulders and yanked him around, at the lack of response. And as Padlock saw what had crept up behind him, he felt the blood rush off of his face. 

A gnoll. 

A hyena-man, hulking in size. It was easily two heads taller than Padlock, on its hind-legs. Its shape was slender, and yet robust and muscled enough to take down prey far larger than itself. A spotted fur kept the gnoll hidden in coverage, covered in light-and-dark brown spots and caked with fresh blood. Its ears, snout, forearms, short hind-legs and stumpy tail were black as coal. Its arms were still caked with sanguine liquid... Scars were strewn all over its body like an abstract art-piece, and one clawed nail of the gnoll was already the size of Padlock's entire hand. It sported a long, unkept mohawk on which more caked-on blood was stuck, starting from between the eyes going all the way down its back to end at the tail. The beast had a filthy red cloth draped around its waist and the shoulders, seemingly from the same fabric of the tent... The gnoll's tent. It all made sense now. The howls. The droppings. The rotten meat. Everything.

However, the thing that struck Padlock the most, was that the gnolls' left eye was blind. It stared blankly at him while the other, intact brown-red eye drilled into his very bones, frightening the boy to a point of no return. There was more, however. 

Its eye was blind for a reason. 

And the Y-shaped scar spanning over the gnolls nose, the longest line being cut straight over its left eye, ending at its upper lip, and the shorter line stopping just underneath the right one, pink-tinted lost in a feral black hue, that was the reason. 

The furious gnoll shook Padlock around on his shoulders, to try and get an answer out of the poor boy again. **"DID YOU NO HEAR ME?! ARE YOU DEAF?!"** It barked at him, saving no effort in intimidating him. He bared his glistening fangs while letting go of Padlock and taking a few little steps back to inspect the intruder. It hunched over, and it grabbed something from behind its back. Padlock gulped, still completely frozen in place and running out of breath.

The gnoll had grabbed a spear. A splintery wooden shaft with a sharp point on the bottom-side, and more red fabric where the shaft was fastened with the spearhead. A rusty and well-worn thing... But no less dangerous. Mostly judging by the blood that was still dripping from it.

Padlock tripped over his own words, coming back into action with a painful snap in his lower neck. He felt it come from his horns, and it made him grunt and squint his eyes. The gnoll stepped back, but only slightly. It still looked ready for blood and a low growl and a giggle slipped between the gnoll's fangs. 

**"Alright, listen- listen! I can explain this! I swear! Don't... Don't use that thing on me... Uh-"** Padlock did not know much about gnolls, as gnolls were feral and wilderness-roving folk, and he was a thief from the city, and from the way it looked now it seemed just like a big feral dog with spots and clothing on... And the spear of course. So he figured that the best thing he could do now is talk to it like the gnoll was a big dog. **"Good boy, uhm-... Good-Good dog--"**

When he got grabbed at the throat and held up into the air, Padlock immediately regretted that decision. **"Call Therr dog again and you lose** **throat. YEA?"** The gnoll snarled at him. Padlock felt the life leave from his shivering fingers, clutched around the gnoll's arm. His head felt like it could explode but he couldn't breathe at the same time. Gods, this thing was powerful. His tail wildly flicked and his head did too. He tried saying **"Yea!"** back but all that came out was a weird gargling sound. The tail flicked particularly close to the gnoll's arm as Padlock began seeing spots cover his sight...- And it hit! It left a small cut in the gnoll's left arm, which made it yelp and cry out once more. The gnoll threw Padlock on the grimy ground and jumped over him, bursting through the fences to lick its wounds... Literally. 

Padlock remained gasping on the floor, his lungs and his head burning and pounding while his throat felt like it was the size of a straw. Once his hearing returned to him, when he no longer could hear the thumping of the blood rushing to his head, he heard those weird yelps again. The green-horned boy pulled himself up using the fence-sticks, his tail being used as a strange but stable support. **"Hey, uh... Gnoll?"** Padlock wheezed. He coughed directly after. **"I-I didn't mean anything by it. You're not a dog... You're just a little, hmm... Aggressive? If that makes sense?"** He still couldn't see much clearly, so he had no idea where the gnoll was in its camp. It was too dark for that. He didn't care that his robe was all dirty now, at least he was alive. But if he didn't find rest soon, he wouldn't be alive for long. 

A yelp from behind the fence. Shuffling and the crackling of twigs and the sound of something dripping to the floor. Then, a hiss. That hiss was what made Padlock's hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It emitted a toxic smell. Padlock pressed two fingers to his nose but soon realised he still needed to breathe. He let go and gagged. **"Gnoll? Are you okay?"** A whimper followed by a growl was but all the answer he got. 

**"Gnoll?"** Padlock repeated, his tone high and concerned, and as clear as he could say it with his squished throat. He shivered. The cold night had donned another colour. White eyes stared on top of the hill. They were his. 

In all this chaos, he had overlooked that he could see in the dark. Padlock had overlooked what he was, too occupied with the new horns and his tail, and his unknown divine gifts. 

He was a shadow-mutant, a creature born out of the darkest of night. White eyes that were nearly blind in the sun, with purple-tinted skin that seemed almost alien, and hair dark and shaded as the world perceived his kin. They were rare, near-extinct beings that were oft shunned by the world, being seen merely as demon-spawn and god-forsaken creatures of the night. Fully sentient and cunning, however, and mostly in charge of large underground businesses that the waking eye dared not see. 'Shadow-mutant' was their name in the common tongue. The true name of their race was rarely heard from on whispering lips. Their name was as cursed as their reputation. 

That was what he had forgotten. 

It surprised him quite a lot when he finally figured that out, when he began to see the shapes of the hill in a blue-tinted hue, like through the goggles made of a night-crystal. He began to see the sticks in the ground, the tent behind the fence, and the gnoll. Nothing seemed to be different... Other than the brightly-shining substance dripping from the gnoll's arm. 

The gnoll didn't seem to be responding, other than the occasional groan and the high painful yelp. Padlock, even though he knew better, managed to slip himself between the sharp sticks in the ground. He went to check up on the gnoll, which was hunched-over on his knees, near its tent. **"Gnoll?"** One, two more steps closer, and now Padlock was close enough to hesitantly put a hand on the hulking Gnoll's shoulder. **"Are.... Are you okay?"**

A deafening roar right into his face was _not at all_ what Padlock had expected. The gnoll jumped back and didn't bother wasting words on the horned boy any longer. The arm that Padlock's tail had hit, the left one, started to shake uncontrollably while still dripping with that glowing substance that Padlock could see from afar. He nearly stepped in it before touching the gnoll but jumped back right on time. **"I'll take that as a no. Sorry about that."** Padlock sighed and, veins pumping with adrenaline, prepared himself to fly off like a bat once more. The gnoll cried from pain once again and clutched its dripping arm with his other one, raising its head to the sky and now showing its canines in full clarity. It shook and moved erratically as if there were needles drilled everywhere on its skin. Finally something sensible came from the beasts mouth. 

**"HURTS!... GHGG- GREEN! GREEN HURTS!"**

From out of nowhere the gnoll jumped at Padlock with its fangs and claws bared, still letting out ear-piercing screams and the toxic substance still dripping from its arm. Padlock's reflexes came to action and quickly made him jump out of the way, and he roughly landed with his back against the fence. He breathed heavily and crawled back up. The gnoll, already distracted by the pain in its arm and not expecting Padlock to jump out of the way, landed full on the sand with another yelp. It toppled over to its left side and crawled back up the split second after, leaning on three legs. The beast was furious. Ravenous. It wanted Padlock dead. 

It charged yet again, this time with the left arm out of use. The gnoll still shook violently as it made another jump to Padlock from the side. Padlock barely avoided the sharp claws. They grazed his new cloak. As the gnoll fell face-first into its fence, Padlock let out a sigh of relief, thinking it was over. Wrong thought. Out of pure rage, the gnoll ripped the sharp stick out of the ground with its teeth and threw it at Padlock. It zoomed straight at him with such speed that Padlock could barely jump out of the way in time. The stick hit his cloak, and as it drilled into the floor he fell along with it. The gnoll took its chance to trample over to Padlock and strike. Padlock screamed out of pure fear as his head swerved the dirty ground to avoid the beast's sharp claws. Or, claw. 

The gnoll's right arm was still dripping and out of use. A small plan was hatched. Padlock grinned. In his panic he always made the best plans. **"YOU DID THIS, HORN-MAN! YOU DID THIS!"** Snarled the gnoll in pure agony. **"WHAT'S THE GREEN?!"** It heaved its chest to breathe. There were tears in its eyes, and Padlock admitted that he felt a little bad, even if this animal-man was trying to kill him. **"I don't know that either, okay?! Just give me your arm for a bit!"** Padlock yelled back, trying to sound louder than the gnoll's screams. Surprisingly, the gnoll complied, as it held out its shuddering arm. Padlock grabbed it by the wrist, looked at it. Still wounded, still that awful green goo dripping from it, and... Were those veins? 

**"That can't be good."** Padlock gulped. Green, like the toxic green he'd seen before. Like that cloud... And his horns. What the hell _was_ this stuff? The gnoll let out a high **"Oooouuuhhh"** -noise, and whimpered **"Hurts!"** clutching the ground beneath him as if it would provide support. Padlock started to panic. He didn't know what to do against this. He only knew the green stuff was bad, bad business. Why didn't the wind warn him of this happening?! The gnoll apparently saw Padlock hesitate, and with that hesitation came fear. And fear was, for gnolls, an aphrodisiac...

 **"Alright, uhm... Be- Be calm, okay? I-I don't know how to fix this but I will-..."** Padlock shuddered as he felt the gnoll's hot stagnant breath against his face. **"I... I will try-"** He didn't want to look up. He felt sick... But he knew he had to or he'd die. He slowly raised his head... 

The gnoll looked at him with a grin... And a green-tinted eye. The veins on its arm sprawled and spread with a speed Padlock had never seen before, and it still managed to make the gnoll's arm shake violently like an animal battling with death. **"...Gnoll?"** Padlock fearfully asked. But the gnoll only grinned. It yanked itself loose from Padlock's grip and stepped back, not losing eyes on Padlock for even a second. He gently stepped around Padlock, circling him, slowly. That made the horned boy nervous. He felt like he had no other choice than to talk reason into this thing, as best he could **"H-hey, I'm only trying to help here, even if I don't know how. You don't have to run away from me-"** He was slammed against the harsh ground by a force he didn't expect, and a deafening scream that sounded like the gnoll's cry but warbled, twisted and demonic, shattered through the air. The gnoll wasn't himself anymore. This was worse than what Padlock had imagined it would be. **"If I don't do something now,"** Padlock gulped. **"I'm going to be this guy's dinner."**

The gnoll lifted the fallen Padlock with tremors in its claws, loudly screaming into the sky once again. The veins had spread all over the arm, and seemed to glow with sickening light on their own, bulging through the fur like worms. Padlock got dizzy from the shaking of the gnoll, kicking his feet against the beast, screaming and crying, but nothing worked. He was weak against this. Would this really be the end of his journey?

Of course not. 

The more Padlock's heart began to thump, the more of a pressure he felt in his body, especially in his arms. Something was there. He just had to let it out. He thought of the wind, how it helped him over the ravine, and he shut his eyes and thought and hoped his hardest, feeling his heart nearly pound out of its chest... Then, with a screech almost as loud as the green gnoll's, his form shifted from the horned, scared boy, into the giant bat-creature he was before. Arms turned into leathery wings, legs turned into claws, and his green horns receded into his skull with a painful hiss when a hairy head with large ears and a stump boar-like nose came into its place. His eyes remained the same colour of pale white. Padlock the bat-beast flapped his big wings together and scratched at the gnoll, who let go out of surprise and jumped back, screaming. The bat caught air, flew up and descended mid-air to swoop the gnoll from above. That attack hit! Rogue rouge claws cut painfully into the gnoll's left shoulder, and green liquid poured out. The gnoll screamed in pain, and jumped up to snap the bat-creature from up above. But with luck and speed, he got away. for yet another diving-attack. The furious gnoll jumped from place to place and got out its spear. As Padlock the bat swooped down another time the gnoll threw the spear with tremendous force. It grazed Padlock's right wing, but it didn't stop him from flapping. With another swoop his claws cut deep into the original wound, which made the gnoll drop to the floor and cry out. The green had stopped dripping. But the gnoll didn't stop there. With its last slivers of power, the beast of the hill arose and braced itself. Just as Padlock the bat-beast wanted to fly off for another swooping-attack, the gnoll leaped upwards and bit in Padlock's direction. A hit. Padlock the bat-beast was caught by the stump tail, and flung to the ground. 

He landed right next to a puddle of green, and quickly transformed back, as he saw the gnoll get closer and closer to him. The beast was stumbling, enraged and looked completely out of it. Red dripped from its jaws and green dripped from its arm... As Padlock's lower back started to hurt immensely it didn't take him long to figure out where the red came from. This was it, he was going to get killed. 

Or so he thought. 

The gnoll grabbed Padlock's head with one hand and pushed it down, trying to do something. It was trying to push Padlock into the green puddle. Padlock's horns were going crazy with pain, and the green edge at the end of his tail flopped around on the floor just as aggressively. **"WHY?!"** Padlock cried out, still trying to reason with the gnoll. **"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! STOP IT!"** The gnoll let out another sickening, warbled cry. **"IT'SSS WHAT THE GRRRREEN WANTSSS!"** It tried with all its remaining power to push Padlock's head in, but something about it didn't work. Padlock wouldn't budge. No matter how hard the gnoll tried. 

Something within Padlock had ticked. Something from deep, deep within him. The feeling that was burrowed in his stomach had burst out in a wave of deep-red flame. He raised one arm that was covered in the flame-hue, and with it he yanked off the gnoll's arm covering his head, with no trouble at all. Just in that time, all its green wounds stopped dripping. Padlock's eyes looked dead-serious at the gnoll, who, as if woken from a nightmare, only looked at Padlock in pure terror. 

**"I said... Stop it."**

In a flash Padlock's other hand slammed right into the gnoll's face and the flame that covered Padlock's entire body now engulfed his entire hand. Once it made contact with the gnoll it made one last demonic cry of pain. Thunder rumbled through the already-dark night as the heat around got unbearable. It made lightning crackle... 

And as one hard strike of red lightning hit the gnoll, the hills were silenced. 

{--}

 **"What then? What happened then?!"** Yelled the boy, who leaned over the table and clenched a pen in his hand so hard that it broke in two. The scribe gently laughed, rolling up the scroll as gently as possible and taking out another that lay next to her chair. It had rolled off of the table beforehand, and the three of them were too invested in the story to notice. **"So, _now_ you are interested?" **The boy heavily nodded his head as he didn't understand that the question was meant ironically. Even the princess next to him took a break from copying the texts to listen. **"Very well then, I will tell you what happens next... You'd best take notes."** The boy looked at the ink dripping from his hand in embarrassment. **"Oh... Oops."**


	3. The Wayward Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having gained a new friend, Padlock and Therr soon make another bunch of discoveries, each more unnerving than the last...

The tale continues with Padlock and the gnoll traveling over the wild, grassy plains...

_**-"But- Why?"** The boy at the table asked, quickly scribbling on a loose piece of paper with his pen. **"What happened in-between?! Why are they walking together?! They were JUST at each-other's throats! Fill us in!"** Margaretha the scribe simply chuckled. She'd finally caught their full attention. **"If you keep quiet..."** She rolled down a part of the scroll and placed it on the table, gently putting paperweights on the edges of the scroll so it wouldn't roll up anymore. **"...I'll tell you."-**_

So Padlock and the gnoll, whose name was Therr, walked through the rain-thirsty lands in search of something. They walked side by side, but with a slight distance from each other. Therr the gnoll had one arm slumped behind him, from which dangled a long line of chains. The chains had rusty shackles attached to them. Padlock seemed completely unfazed by both the hulking gnoll and the crunching of the chains against the dried-up ground.

Padlock himself had no idea what happened when he raked up his thoughts from the past few days. He remembered the gnoll nearly pushing him in the sick green goo, and how his vision turned red with a clap of thunder... Everything past that, up to the point where he woke up to the gnoll gnawing on his arm, was a mystery to him. When he'd woken up from the thunder-strike Padlock had felt a nasty burn on his tail... And his head. The green horns on his head had burned and were black with soot, and the green tip of his tail had practically been burned off. The thing lay still on the ground, hissing with toxic smoke until at last dying out.

Something, -perhaps the lightning- Padlock thought, had turned the gnoll from a ravenous beast to a near-tame, powerful ally. And whatever that was, Padlock was grateful that he didn't have to feel alone anymore. Both he and the gnoll were baffled by the happening... The gnoll's camp was a mess as well. Everything was even more torn and burnt, many of the sticks were blasted out of the ground, and no trace of the green goo... It had turned into a regular old broken camp, full of red mud-water. There was no reason for the gnoll to be camped here any longer. 

So, against his better judgement, Padlock decided to take the gnoll with him. 

Padlock sighed as the two walked through the waist-high grass. A group of small herbivores poked their head up from afar, watching them. **"Run me through the whole plan again, will you?"** The gnoll stopped in his tracks, cocking his head towards Padlock and looked at his one empty hand. **"Run... Through?"** A small grin cracked on his face. Padlock quickly turned towards the gnoll, fearing an attack from behind. **"No...."** He said with a correcting tone. His tail flopped on the ground. It still tingled at the end, from a thing that was no longer there. **"No. Not like that."** He lifted his palm and the gnoll stopped. **"What I mean is... Why are we here, walking?"** He snapped a dried blade of grass and rubbed it between his fingers.

The gnoll huffed, shaking his nose and quickly jumping into action. He lifted his chained arm and smiled widely, his rough tongue flopping out. **"OH! Therr knows!"** Birds flocked into the sky as Therr's yelling scared them away. 

Padlock smiled. **"Then tell me."**

But as much as the gnoll tried to get the words out of his mouth, he couldn't. After lots of stamping on the ground and wildly shaking his chain around, nothing left. It made Padlock laugh. Therr stomped over to him and gave him an angry look. **''DON'T LAUGH! I DON'T KNOW!"** Padlock kept his cool, once again raising his hands. 

**"Easy, Therr. We'll figure it out. You said something to do with 'hunting' last night, yeah?"** And a split second after, the gnoll once again had a jolly grin on his face. It ruffled Padlock's hair between the horns and walked on through the dry grass. **"YEAH! WE HUNT FOR MAN!"**

Padlock awkwardly walked along with the remarkable gnoll. He himself wasn't human, and he knew that, so _he_ had nothing to fear. Still, he felt a little bad about the people they were going to capture. Therr had told him about it before, as best as Therr could do in his limited gnoll-language. He'd told Padlock that he was a slaver before he lived alone. That he would capture the nomadic people that lived on and around these plains, and drop them off at a camp of his gnoll-brethren for rewards of food and weapons. It was unsavoury, no less dangerous, but it seemed like it was one of the only ways to survive on these endless plains. 

Padlock wasn't sure if there even was another way. 

Therr hadn't told him what he did before his time as a slaver, or why he was alone in the first place. He would lose the words every time Padlock asked, and decided that since the two of them had more important things on their mind, it was best not to ask. (At least, until he found someone who could translate gnoll)

 **"There! We go!"** Out of nowhere Therr ran, sprinting on all fours, with only his long dark mohawk sometimes waving up from the yellow blades of grass like a shark's fin. Padlock trailed after him, shaking his arms until at last he followed Therr, sailing through the air in his bat-form. They had found prey. 

They moved fast through the grass, almost without end and without pause, and just as Padlock was starting to doubt if Therr was running the right way they came to a halt. 

Before them was a burned-down clearing. The grass was stuck to the ground and black as coal... Shaped in an unsettlingly perfect circle. In the circle were items. Items that seemed very out-of place in such grassy plains, in the middle of nowhere. These items were scrolls. A black clay tablet. Buckets and jars and bowls filled with something. And a dagger... These items lay perfectly still on some thick stones next to a bedroll in the middle of the clearing. Therr wanted to set foot in the clearing to investigate. **"Wait up, buddy...-"** Padlock said, landing on the rustling ground as he turned into his regular self. **"Something seems fishy."**

One foot first, then the other. Padlock was already relieved that they wouldn't burn up or be cursed once they finally set foot in the burned clearing. **"Who the hell would live here?..."** Padlock looked at the gnoll, as if he had an answer. But by the look on his hairy face, Therr was as dumbfounded as he was. **"Then again, I found you in a similar place. Is there another gnoll here?"** Padlock laughed. Therr shuffled around in the perfect circle, sniffing the air. **"No... This a man. Circle's too good to be from a gnoll."**

Padlock inspected the items next to the bedroll, while Therr stood guard outside the circle. He brushed his hand over the pommel and the grip of the dagger... Therr's words ghosted through his head as he drifted off into thought. 

**"This a man..."** \- This circle was was placed here by someone. Which means that people came here from the outside. No sane person would bring all these items otherwise. Subconsciously, Padlock grabbed the dagger and gently held it in his right hand. His thoughts were somewhere else. He looked more closely at the dagger and for a fraction of a moment, he saw a snap of the rooftops in a dark city, and someone whose face he could not see handed him a dagger. **"Have this. Use this thing to shank a man."** The thought _-or was it a memory?-_ left as fast as it came, and Padlock came to his senses with a bright flash over his eyes and a loud crack between his ears. 

**"Urrrrghhh...."** He groaned as he put down the dagger to hold his head in his hands. Therr seemed to notice this and he inched closer. He was cautiously sniffing around. **"What wrong? Green?"** That last word came out quite harsh. Padlock dismissed his question with a wave. **"No... No."** The thought felt unpleasant, but not sickening. It felt out of reach. **"I was just getting a headache. We better find something to drink soon."** Therr seemed to understand that. He inched closer and looked at one of the buckets. It lay farthest from the dagger and at the foot-end of the bedroll. It was an empty, wooden bucket. Therr huffed and scratched the ground with his paw. He grabbed the handle of the bucket tight. **"I'll find something... I saw a small pond nearby. Stay here."** He darted off into the grass before Padlock could say anything. 

Padlock was alone again, and he felt endangered. 

**"There won't be any hurt in looking at the other stuff, I think."** He quickly looked to his side, as if something could jump out from the bushes and be at his throat at any second. Having no place to store the dagger and still wanting to defend himself outside of his bat-form, he grabbed a piece of rope that lay at the bottom of one of the rocks and wrapped it around his tattered cloak. He stuck the dagger behind that. **"It's not much, but it'll hold for now."** Now Padlock felt a little more safe. 

Padlock decided to check out the scrolls and the clay tablet for now, as the bowls and jars contained nothing of interest. Just some food, disgusting crushed berries, which Padlock only sniffed at and dipped his finger into but didn't eat. He didn't like jam. Padlock wiped his hands clean on his robe before he grabbed a random scroll and tried reading its texts... And put the thing down on the stone again. He could read some languages, if only a little, but these texts were indecipherable to him. 

The black clay tablet, however, was something else entirely. 

It had no words on it to speak of, but instead small etchings that depicted a scene playing out. The etchings were all painted with green ink, that was in one of the bowls. A triangle with a flat top, 'a ziggurat' Padlock knew, with a gathering of strange praying things at the bottom. Horns primed at both the sides of the ziggurat. He shifted in his stance and looked again, this time grabbing the tablet with both hands. Did the etchings just.... Move? 

The horns on the side seemed to grow out of absolute nowhere. The strange praying things at the bottom of the tablet seemed to fall down, and just as strange lines aggressively scribbled their way upwards, to the top of the tablet, the whole thing started shaking and in a blind panic, Padlock threw the black tablet hard against the stone. It crackled into many tiny pieces, but not before flashing Padlock with the image of a toxic green skull. 

The same feeling as earlier overthrew him, and Padlock doubled over, clamping on his last breath. His eyes were wide open as he tried to shake the awful image of the green horned skull out of his head. His stomach was knotted with a million loops. He finally began to understand what the tablet was about. **"That ziggurat, that must've been the altar I was on... Those people, all-all those corpses at the bottom. And the-the lines... Wasn't that the cloud that the wind chased away? That tablet, it was about-"**

**"Me?"**

**"PAAAA'-DLOCK!"** A familiar voice cried out. Therr had returned from amidst the bushes, back with a full bucket of water... And a man behind him in chains. Padlock quickly got up from the ground, and almost fell over again from the lack of blood in his head. The gnoll yanked the chains, looking very proud and upright. **"I GOT A THING, AND ANOTHER THING! UH-.... You okay?"** And once again, Padlock waved the question away. **"Just the lack of drink... Thank you, Therr."** He would have to tell the truth to Therr soon, but not now.He stood up, this time slower, and took a glance at the half-naked defenceless man tied to the chains. Therr plopped the bucket in front of him. It splashed everywhere. The gnoll on the other hand drank from another bucket... One that must've belonged to the man in the chains. 

**"Who is this you got here?"** Padlock asked. His stomach still felt a little sick, even though the tablet was broken into many pieces next to him. He figured a drink might be the best remedy. Padlock cupped his hand and dipped it into the fresh pond-water, which already made him feel a lot better. But he could not shake this feeling. Especially when he looked at the chained man behind Therr, the feeling remained. 

**"FOUND HIM! NEAR THE POND! HE LOOKED FOR FOOD... I GRRRABBED HIM!"** Therr swooped his free arm around and rolled his biceps. The gnoll grinned widely. **"He tried doing some sparks but I broke his hands! Won't do that again!"** He said very matter-of-factly, and took another swig from 'his' bucket. **"Now, I found the next encampment's only one day gone from here, so if w-"**

 **"Woah, hold up."** Padlock raised his hand to make Therr stop talking. **"You... 'Found' him? Near the pond?... Doing 'some sparks'?"** Padlock had one more cupped hand of fresh water and then walked over to the man in the chains. He seemed a little... Out of it. **"Therr, this must be the person this circle belongs to!"** He didn't know wether that was a good thing, or bad. Judging by the broken black clay tablet, it probably wasn't good... Therr perked his head at Padlock. He suddenly wagged his tail very enthusiastically. **"Oh.... OH! YAY!"** He bumped the man in the chains, who responded with a low groan. He finally managed to open his eyes. **"THIS YOUR HOME, RIGHT? BE HAPPY YOU STILL GET TO SEE IT!"** Padlock snickered, and crossed his arms. His tail flicked from left to right. **"Therr, that's kinda mean."** He stood two steps of distance from the man, who finally seemed to get conscious. 

Padlock wasn't prepared for what happened to the man next. 

The man, first, grumpily looked around, and after noticing what predicament he was in, his face turned into a pure, chittering panic. The man, who looked raggedy and yet stiff, had ice-white sprouts of hair out of his balding, sun-kissed skull. Skull, because the man looked _very_ dried-up and leathery, as if he could go stiff at any moment. Bright-green eyes lay sunken-back into the hollow sockets, but nothing more was remarkable about the man's body. It was those eyes. The damn green in those eyes that Padlock had a problem with. 

**"Where in the name of the horned one..."** The leathery man murmured, struck with shock. Once he discovered his hands drooping down limply, no matter how hard he yanked up his arms, he got into even more of a panic.

And then, he saw Padlock. 

**"Well, speak of the devil. My lord! Thank the green birds that you are here! Now quick! L-Let me free to I can wreak my revenge on this BEAST!"** The man ran towards Therr and began kicking him. The gnoll didn't respond kindly to this, and punched the man to the ground with a loud growl. Padlock was too stuck thinking about that green in his eyes to really respond. **"My lord?-UNGH! WHAT IS THE MATTER? LET ME LOOSE! I AM ONE OF YOUR MOST TRUSTED PRIESTS!"** Padlock was silently thinking. **"This must be related to the clay tablet as well... Does he really think I'm part of that green trash, just because of my horns?"** He felt on one of them and a nasty shock went through his fingers. No, he wouldn't act in to profit from this. This was not who he was. 

**"I'm sorry, you undead-looking green devil-worshipper, but I'm not that type of guy."** Padlock crossed his arms and looked at the man being floored by the gnoll. He flicked his hand and ordered for the man to be hauled up. And so Therr did. **"He talk a lot,"** Therr snarled. **"What we do with him, Padlock?"** The man seemed even more confused by this than Padlock was. **"Wait... That name, are- are you not the bodily icon of Unuthar then, here to lead us of the Ihol-Kohkol-Thoth to freedom?"** Padlock frowned, his tail now flicking the black ground hard. **"I'm gonna have to stop you right there. I don't know who you think I am, weird skull.... Cult... Person, but my name is Padlock and as far as I know I only have these horns so they can make me sick. So you better grab your stuff and leave here, before we get angry."**

It became clear to the man in the chains that Padlock was _not_ at all the bodily icon of Unuthar, and that he wouldn't lead their cult to so-called freedom in a storm of destruction across Choul. When once his face was terror, then hope, it was now a strict, unsettling gaze. The man pointed at the dagger on Padlock's waist with his broken and bruised hand. **"That's my dagger."** He said, but it was enough to creep Padlock out. **"And that was my tablet."** The man pointed at the broken pieces of black clay scattered on the ground. **"And......"** Suddenly the man's fingers cracked again, and his hands shaped and reformed and slowly, without Therr even noticing, they slid out of the shackles on the chains and twisted and grew until they looked like long, skeletal wings. **"That.... Is my JACKET!"** In a flash of a second there stood a sickening green bird-demon, a barely human form that hunched over with talons for legs and a face full of short sharp feathers. The wings on his arms looked more like deadly claws. With a deafening screech, it lurched over to Padlock with its claws bared, grasping for the boy's throat. Padlock screamed out of fear, shutting his eyes. He was paralysed from surprise. He prepared himself for the swift deadly cut of the sickening green, but it never came. He opened his eyes to find out why.

Therr and the green bird-demon were fighting a deadly battle, rolling over the burned-down ground, using claws, teeth, kicks and cuts, everything that they could to bring the other to the realm of the dead. And it looked like Therr had the upper hand. Padlock cheered on his friend which made Therr try even harder, up until the point where the bird-demon saw an opening in the gnoll's attack and cut Therr _hard_ on the inside of leg... And below. 

The screams of the pained gnoll cut through the air like a hot knife through melting butter. 

Padlock somehow felt like he knew what he had to do. He jumped at the bird-demon with the dagger clenched in his hands, and slid the cold-hard metal into the demon's thigh. **"LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU MONSTER!"** The demon kicked him out of the way and then fled, flapping its thin leathery wings as fast as it could. Padlock looked at the monster go and growled. He wanted to turn into a bat and follow it, make it pay for attacking his gnoll-friend. But Therr grabbed him back.

 **"You cut... He cut too. Either he die soon, or we follow his trail. We- We even..."** Therr sounded exasperated. He was curled up in a little ball with one hand still stuck between his legs, and with the other arm he'd grabbed Padlock's tail. That felt a little odd. Padlock looked over his shoulder at his poor, poor gnoll-friend. **"Are you sure?"**

Therr nodded. 

With that being confirmed, Padlock stuck the dagger behind the cord around his waist and threateningly waved his fist at the bird-demon in staggering flight. 

**"AND YOU BETTER NEVER FUCKING COME BACK! WE'LL END YOU!"**

They needed but one night of rest in the dark circle -Padlock on the bedroll and Therr laying on the stones- to get healed up enough to continue. Gnolls, being kin to trolls, healed fast as long as the damage they took was not from fire. Which luckily, it didn't seem to be. It was just a normal cut... In a very sensitive area. 

But all things aside, Padlock and Therr salvaged what they could -the bedroll, the dagger and the two buckets filled with water- before they went on their way again. They had a goal, this time: Find the bird-demon, then beat the crap out of him. They only had to follow the drops that had fallen down every few miles. A red wind waved at their back and seemed to sound like a whistle-y laugh when it went through the grass. Therr huffed at that. He didn't know what it was. But Padlock knew. He smiled. **"Mr. Wind... You're back."** Padlock looked at the red sky while Therr ran ahead to check for danger. The wind coiled and gave them a hard tug, unearthing something near Therr...

 **"LOOK! I FOUND A THING!"** Therr yelled at him from between the grass. The gnoll held up an old, dirt-covered spear. It had the engraving of a skull at the ring between the head and the handle. Padlock clapped, and slyly stuck up his thumb at the red wind whenever Therr wasn't looking. 

A few days of traveling and following the drops, which became scarcer and harder to find after every drop, the horned boy and the gnoll came to the edge of the grasslands, and Padlock could see that it made Therr nervous. Right before them was a cobblestone road, which stopped exactly where the grass was at waist-height. The road seemed to go on straight forever... **"What?"** He asked. **"You never been outside of here before?"** Therr shook his head, clenching the spear in one hand and the chain holding all their other items in the other. **"Have... But the trail stopped. Hard time finding on stone."** Padlock chuckled at that, which gave him a weird look from Therr. 

**"No worries, bud."** Padlock gently tapped Therr on the arm, for reassurance. **"We'll just follow the road."**


	4. The Wayward Faith, Rekindled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padlock and Therr deal with yet another religious zealot on the road, and a fight ensues...

And so, the horned boy and the gnoll walked on the cobbled road. That was, until the scorching sun started to overheat the stones they were on, and the two yelled in pain and instead, they walked on the grass on the side of the road. 

This grass was low, and reached to their knees -even lower, at some spots. There were puddles and streams, rocks and pits of sand and big holes in the ground that Therr dug into, which would promptly result in him being chased out by a big worm with teeth and Padlock would laugh as they crushed the worm into chunks together and used it for their nighttime meal (giant earthworm was very nutritious). Bushes and plants grew all around and the place looked a lot more alive than the lonely hills with only grass on them, that they were at before. Sometimes Therr found a tall cactus he could do his business against, and then Padlock would snicker and look away, keeping watch for anyone down the road. 

They found no-one. Even after three whole days of following the road, sleeping under large bushes and living of small game (and the aforementioned giant earthworms), nobody showed up. Not even Mr. Wind would speak to Padlock. They were almost losing hope of finding the bird-demon again. 

And then, the fourth day came.

_**~~** _

_**"There's giant earthworms in the Dead-Lands?! Damn... I wanna find one now!"** The boy at the table exclaimed. He'd washed the ink off of his hand and still listened to Margaretha reciting the tale off the old scroll. The princess put down her pen and whacked his arm, visibly agitated of her protector's constant interrupting. **"Ayan, if you don't silence yourself and listen for once, I'll feed YOU to a giant earthworm!"** The boy quickly ducked under the table, acting as if his pen had fallen to the floor. **"Well, excuuuuuuuse ME, princess!"**_

**"CHILDREN, CHILDREN! PLEASE!"** _Margaretha called out, while trying to keep the peace._ **_"All in due time. Let's continue the story now._ This _part will be interesting." She glanced at the scroll. "A man of faith walked their way..."_** _She heard Ayan go_ **"Euhlgh."** _under the table._ **_"Not a priest, worry not. This character was more of a knight-templar. One who fought for his deity with weapons, not books. That might appeal to you more."_ **

_Ayan, the protector, raised his head above the table. He was curious. Margaretha continued._

_**~~** _

Padlock and Therr passed the foot of a large mound to their right, which spanned all the way past the horizon. The wild mound ran conveniently alongside the road, or maybe it was the other way around. It was covered with dry yellow grass and it looked very robust. Behind the foot of the mound they saw a dirt-beaten path to a tall forest. 

Now that Padlock thought about it, the whole place looked dirt-beaten. Abandoned to a fault. Grass and wild flowers grew between the cobblestones and it was clear nobody but them had walked here for at least weeks, or months, maybe even _years_. 

**"Are we truly alone here, then?"** He whispered to himself. His tail brushed against the reeds and he was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice Therr sticking his head up. The wind had turned, and it blew into their face.

Therr had picked up a scent. 

The gnoll jumped on all fours and sprinted through the grass, largely unseen and almost unheard. Padlock only had a moment before he saw Therr run, and he sprinted after his gnoll-friend. He used to be a thief, which made Padlock fast, but Therr was still faster. It wasn't long before Padlock could not catch up, and so instead he focussed on his breathing and started raising his arms while he ran, and it wasn't long before the wild whirled around him and he could catch up to his friend in his monstrous bat-form. 

He spotted the thing that Therr had sniffed up. 

It was clad in armour, which reflected the light from the rays of the red sun. The one part left unarmored was its head, which gleamed with sweat in a tint of green. From this height Padlock saw no face, but black spiky hair which didn't move one bit in the wind. Two glistening weapons were strapped on the thing's back. The armoured being seemed completely unfazed by the two, almost as if it was in a trance. It didn't even notice them. All Padlock could see from this distance was that the figure was followed by a trail of white smoke. 

Padlock saw Therr come to a halt somewhere nearby, and he took that as a queue to land as well. The horned bat descended and came to the earth with a loud thump. **"Shit. That made some noise."** He quickly lowered his head once he had transformed back. He preferred if Therr and him remained hidden. Padlock heard a rustle behind him and found that it was his tail, nervously swishing against the grass. He grabbed it and held it tight, nervous sweat dripping off his face. And he hoped to the wind that they wouldn't get noticed. 

The green armour-clad person didn't even seem to acknowledge their existence. 

The person walked slowly over the path, metal boots clanking with every deep step it did on the cobblestone.

 **"Now?"** Therr softly growled, lowering his head to his shoulders and squinting his eyes. He was ready for an attack. **"Now what?"** Padlock asked, just as softly. Undiscovered or not, he didn't want to take any risks. 

**"Now I crush, then we eat?"**

Padlock was completely appalled by what the gnoll just suggested. **"No! What the f- You DO realise that that person might be the only way out of here?"** Therr remained silent, only 'Grrrr'-ing a little. 

Neither of them had expected that the armoured man in green, who swung an iron ball around, followed by a trail of floral smoke, would start singing as he walked past them.

**"Through grace of Görne, what we become,**

**As surely as the blood-red dawn,**

**Of he, who knows the right from wrong,**

**Deliver us to fate."**

It was a low, gentle singing, more akin to the hum of a bell than an actual voice. It was sung monotonous and calm, carefree and yet serious, sung with little emotion and sounding straight out of a written poem. 

Padlock wasn't sure why the song stirred something within him. It made him calm, distracted. Softly and unnoticed did the wind blow around them, wafting the scent of flowers into their noses. But the wind blew harder at him. It tugged at his hair and blew right into his ear, and almost did he seem to hear a familiar voice say; **"Hey, get up! He's here!"**

_That_ is what shook Padlock awake. 

Therr didn't seem to have any of it. He had let out another growl and kept creeping through the dry brush, following the low-singing figure. There was a high cackle mingled in the wind. 

Padlock knew he had to be quick. Therr was going to eat this armoured, singing figure! 

But he couldn't move quick enough to stop Therr from jumping out of the bushes, and landing in front of the armoured man while the ground painfully scraped his nails. 

**"HEY!"** The rough voice of the gnoll was enough to put the man in armour to a halt. 'Clank' went his boots on the hot hard stones, and the iron ball emitting smoke, which Padlock now recognised as a censer, was left swinging until it came to its own halt. The smell of flowers was still everywhere... Which slowly shifted to a smell of burning flesh. Smoke came from underneath Therr now. 

Uh oh. 

**"WHAT'S YOU DOING HERE?!"** Therr puffed up his chest to appear more threatening, still seemingly unaware of what was happening right underneath him. All Therr had an eye for _(his one intact eye)_ was the threat in front of him. Padlock tried to hush his gnoll-friend, to beckon him back into the grass before it was too late. It wasn't that he feared Therr would get hurt, or even killed, because he knew that the gnoll would be capable of surviving the gravest of injuries. 

No, Padlock was afraid to lose the only lead they had. The armoured man in green.

The figure was something neither Padlock or Therr had expected. A man. He was slightly smaller than Therr, while still standing a full two heads above Padlock. The face of the man was gruff and deep, slightly old, and seemed utterly devoid of emotion. Two sun-bleached tusks stuck out from the man's lower jaw, and he had the scar of a burn-wound underneath his right eye. An Orc... Or a Half-Orc. The fangs were what caught Padlock's attention the most, safe from the symbol on the man's chest-piece. 

A stern ram's face, all black with white eyes, dark-purple skin and pitch-black ringed horns. Strange... Padlock thought he had seen it somewhere before. It looked familiar... 

Then, wonder by wonder, the Orc began to speak, with a voice just as monotone and emotionless as the song it just sung. 

**"Greetings. I am Morg. I am a Half-Orc and a Paladin in the Order of Gö-"** He was quickly interrupted by a loud yelp of pain. Therr's foot had caught fire on the hot stone! Therr jumped around while trying to extinguish the fire, all while painfully screeching and yelling, until he finally put the fire out and jumped into the grass, whining in pain. **"Hurts! Hurts!"** Therr tried to put broken blades of grass on his padded feet to cool it down, to no avail. Padlock grinned, still feeling a bit uncertain about this Half-Orc in front of them. **"That's your own fault, buddy. YOU wanted to attack him. Now you get the hurt."** He turned his face away from his gnoll-friend and walked past him, stopping at the border between grass and cobblestone. 

**"I'm sorry about him. He thought you were prey for a moment. Please, continue."** If Padlock remembered _anything_ from being a thief, it was that a well-oiled word would slip to get people in good graces. And he really, _really_ hoped to keep this Half-Orc in good graces. 

The Half-Orc frowned slightly. **"As you wish. I am Morg. I am a Half-Orc and a Paladin in the Order of Görne."** The last word wasn't even out, or the wind began blowing. Another wave of calm came over Padlock. He got fuzzed and with half-lidded eyes he kept listening to Morg. But something lightly stung on the sides of his head... His horns.

 **"I have been sent by the people of Skrallingdjar. They require my help in taking back a cart of goods that was stolen from them. They believe the thief to be somewhere in the forest."** Morg hummed on. Padlock snapped out of the fuzz when the wind blew hard in his face. **"Oh, uh-... There's a town nearby?"** Morg only nodded. Padlock could hear Therr make low, gurgling noises behind him. Threatening. **"It is the only town this far up north. Everything else is wild lands and prairies."** \- **"I'll say. We've been tracking a weird man-bird-demon for a few days... That went in the other direction."** Grinned Padlock, pointing to the horizon on his left. He'd camped here for a few days, he knew what he was after. Therr snuffled whilst slapping his foot to stop the smoke from rising. He snarled at Morg. **"OUR kill! OUR hunt! NOT yours!"** Morg raised but an eyebrow at the reply. **"I have not seen any demons of the like. Skrallingdjar has requested my help, so that is now my priority. They need those supplies to last against a band of gnolls that has been harassing them mercilessly in recent months."** Padlock immediately looked behind him. He hoped Therr wouldn't be too upset. **"Does your.... Companion, know those gnolls, by chance?"** Padlock raised his shoulders. Therr wouldn't speak. All he would do was prowl around behind his horned friend while keeping his eye on Morg, head low and growling deeply, cutting the blades of grass with his claws. 

**"No... I don't think. Either that or he hasn't told me."** Padlock replied, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The censer still smoked. Padlock was curious as to why. **"Why'd you take that thing with you?... And your entire armour, for that?"** Morg appeared to be upset by this, as he moved to put the sweet-smelling censer away. The wind churned and sent the smoke spiralling softly around Morg and Padlock, until breezing past Therr.

 **"I don't believe you have heard me before. A paladin must carry these things."** The censer went out and Morg stuffed it safely in a burlap sack he carried with him. **"To ward of evil fiends, demons, and monsters."** Padlock grunted as a throbbing headache suddenly returned to him. Another sting. Those damn horns! Just when he thought he was done with it... A green hue appeared around the horns, softly humming. This caught Morg by surprise, and his hand slowly gripped the hilt of one of his weapons. Therr noticed, and bared his fangs whilst keeping his spear raised and ready for throwing. 

**"And now you will see exactly what I use them for."**

Without any warning he pulled out a morning-star from behind his back, and dashed forward, yelling out the name **"GÖRNE!"**. Padlock could see Morg appear through his headache just in time, and jumped out of the way with a yell. **"DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?!"** Therr sprung up and jumped towards Morg from behind the tall grass, letting out a deafening roar on his own. 

**"HEY, HEY! LISTEN-"** Padlock ducked away as Therr flew right over him to bite Morg in the arm. **"I DIDN'T WANT THAT DISGUSTING GREEN HORN-BUSINESS ON ME EITHER, OKAY?! WE'RE-"** Morg pushed Therr off of him with the dull end of his morning-star and used the length of the hilt to keep the ravenous gnoll to the ground, on the hot stones. More screams. **"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"** Therr yelled as he squirmed to get out from underneath the morning-star. He rammed the head of his new spear straight into Morg's leg. Even more painful screams filled the sky. 

**"We're... Trying to get rid of it, by following the tracks of the bird-demon, okay?!"** Padlock huffed, out of breath. Another crack of pain zapped through him and he clutched his head, trying not to fall over. He did not expect Morg to get up from that attack. Therr had crawled back up and had moved back into the grass, snickering as Morg fell to his knees, gritting his teeth. The gnoll quickly moved behind his friend, spear lowered. There was red painful skin on his back.

 **"WHY YOU ATTACK MY FRIEND ANYWAY? TELL ME!"** Therr roared, the manes on his head standing up. He snarled at Morg. He didn't expect Morg to get up either. He'd rather have the intruder die, especially now since he'd been proven dangerous. 

But Morg got up. His armour gleaming in the red sunlight, still doused with a flowery scent. Leaning on his morning-star, furrowed brow and gritted tusks, groaning a chant under his bloodied breath. 

**"Be gone..."** He paused, hissing in pain. **"Vile demon in green. Your chokehold of agony on this poor soul shall be undone!"** Morg stepped towards Padlock, each big step he took rolling like thunder. Therr dashed at him from the side to attack once again, but Morg remained full of focus. With one swing from the morning-star, blood sprouted from Therr as he was hit against his jaw... Hard. The gnoll let out a yelp, fell on the grass once again, and remained there. 

All Padlock could do was step backwards in fear and terror. Therr was right there next to him, but he knew he couldn't move or Morg would get him. The shadow of the half-orc fell over him as Morg approached... Padlock gulped. 

He remembered something from long ago. And that gave him an idea. 

Padlock let every tense muscle inside him loosen up, focussing only on the shadow covering him. And, within a fraction of a moment, just when Morg was about to land a deadly hit on his head with the morning-star, Padlock disappeared. 

**"WHAT?! WHERE-..."** Morg called out in utter confusion. He looked around, his morning-star clutched tight in two hands. He was still breathing deep, and walking was hard for him. He would not have expected Padlock to reappear from behind him even if he tried. 

Being a shadow-mutant, Padlock knew this as one of the many tricks his kind had: Morphing into one's own shadow. One he just _had_ to take advantage of while he had the chance. He tapped Morg on the shoulder, widely smiling. Fear was still coursing through every vein in his body and his tail was swishing around wildly, but now he'd found a way he could win. For Therr.

 **"Looking for someone, are we?"** He once again loosened and sank into his own shadow right before Morg could hit him with the shining spiky ball on the long shaft. Padlock laughed, moving his shadow right through Morg's, and reappearing, once again, behind Morg's back. 

Morg was getting annoyed. Or rather, mad. Real mad. There was something green glimmering in the paladin's eyes now as well. That stung Padlock. He recognised it from before. Therr... **"Oh no."** He had to be quick. He'd already gotten enough information to continue, he might as well dispose of the danger while he could! Morg was nearly frothing at the mouth at this point, red spit foamed out as he raised the morning-star above his head and charged at Padlock, still thundering in his gleaming iron boots. 

**"DIE, DEMON!"**

Padlock pulled his dagger before he sunk into his shadow once again. The attacks of Morg became faster, but less focused. Morg was just madly swinging wherever Padlock happened to be at any moment, shouting out the word **"DEMON!"** Until his voice broke. 

From within the shadows, Padlock stabbed Morg under the arm, right as Morg's heavy morning-star landed its spikes in the dry ground. Morg cried bloody murder and Padlock reappeared behind him once again, panting in relief. But it wasn't over yet. 

He charged once more, and this time Padlock could not vanish in time. He fell onto the floor, mere moments before the morning-star would have cracked his face. A good part of his cloak did get stuck on the spikes though, and thus his flesh as exposed. **"HOW ABOUT YOU CALM DOWN FOR ONCE, YOU PSYCHO?! I DON'T THINK GÖRNE OR WHATEVER WOULD LIKE THIS!"** The wind churned, blowing so hard that Morg's hair went over his eyes so he couldn't see. Padlock seized the opportunity and stabbed Morg with his dagger once again. Morg fell, and his morning-star fell with him. **"You would not know of that, DEMON! You know NOTHING of Görne! NOTHING!"** Morg roared. It sounded like he was in pain, more inside than outside. Padlock wiped the dust off his cloak. He distanced himself from the squirming mess that was Morg. He lay on the ground, furiously trying to get back up. But, his heavy armour coupled with his wounds made that akin to torture. Morg roared out in pain, again and again. He did not even seem to notice Padlock leaving. 

Padlock quickly stepped away, towards Therr. The gnoll was peeking around, bleeding from his mouth and his nose. 

**"You okay, buddy?"** Padlock asked carefully. Therr blinked at him, wiped the blood off his nose, then raised his shoulders. Padlock chuckled. **"You're copying my moves... But okay then,"** He helped the gnoll back up and they cleaned their weapons, and gathered the stuff they had dropped. The buckets were left behind two days ago, eaten by a giant worm that rested in the water. **"Those wounds will heal, buddy. Now let's get to that town to get some more info. Maybe we can find something to eat there, too."** They both shared a laugh as they walked past the squirming Morg and kept walking. 

Once they heard the sound of metal scraping on metal, and the rough grunts of a man in pain, they stopped. Those sounds weren't good. 

**"My Lord... Is more powerful than you will EVER be, DEMON!"** Morg had levered himself back up using the second weapon on his back, a big, BIG battle-axe. Padlock and Therr, both still dazed and tired from the battle before, could only just swerve out of the way as the blood-mad Morg swung the dangerous axe just past them. He scraped it against the ground, dropping red spit with every step.

Therr landed on all fours, snatching his own spear himself and quickly running around Morg to find a fault in his attacks, a weak spot, where he could attack Morg with advantage to be done with him for good.He snarled, his wounds already healing up once again. Padlock, however, wasn't so ready. He was out of power, he _felt_ it. He felt drained. He staggered backwards in fear once again with the dagger he just clumsily pulled shaking in his hand. **"Wind..."** He wheezed in fear, seeing the hulk of a man with the bloodthirsty axe and the sickening green hue in his eyes approaching him, stomping towards him faster and faster. **"-Wind!..."** He called out in another feeble attempt, even more afraid as he lost his balance over the fallen morning-star behind him. He landed on the dry ground with a thump. His heart raced, pumping panicked blood through him. Nowhere to go now. In one last, desperate cry for help, Padlock screamed. **"WIIIIIIIIIIIIND!!!"** And he felt it churn and turn, quicker and quicker around them, but would it be enough?

 **"NOW I GOT YOU, DEMON! NO 'WIND' CAN SAVE YOU NOW!"** Morg howled out, as he swung the great battle-axe low. He stomped his foot right on Padlock's chest and pushed the air out of him, so he had nowhere to go. The axe hit mark, and with a loud _crack_ one of Padlock's horns was cleft in two. One half dropped to the ground spilling a vile hissing liquid, the other half.... Oh boy.

Flashes of pain drilled like burning poisoned needles through Padlock's skull. His lack of air did not stop him from screaming. Tears streamed down his face and he thrashed around under Morg's boot as heavily as a fish on land, wrapped in barbed wire. The wind swept his tears to the right, and the last thing he saw and heard was Therr's mighty roar as he slammed the half-orc off of him, throwing them both on the ground. He felt the wind around him coil, and the pain in his head dull as an unknown force brought him upright and left him to fly in a dream of demons and beasts, horns, and tendrils as black as ash. The green skull from before cackled at him for one last second before everything went black. 


	5. At The End of A Rapier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their new ally in tow, Padlock and crew decide to help out the people of Skrallingdjar before they can head there themselves. But a small, yet significant problem soon stands in their way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my absence. Many things have been going on but now I finally found some time, so this won't be the last you hear from me.

It felt like an eternity before Padlock woke up again. He was lying on grass and his aching head was the first thing he noticed... Or maybe it was the gnoll chewing on his arm. 

Padlock screamed and kicked the gnoll away, crawling back and falling again, as the pain in his head was too much. He looked up and saw that it was Therr. HE was the gnoll chewing on his arm. Therr jumped up in surprise. There was no fresh blood on his mouth, at least -not from him- so he couldn't have bitten hard. What a relief. Out of breath, Padlock panted: 

**"What the hell made you think that was okay?!"**

Therr huffed, wiped his mouth and raised his shoulders. **"I was checking if you weren't dead."**

Padlock was pulled upright by his gnoll friend. Both of them still seemed a little shaken-up from the experience before... But Padlock didn't recall anything up to the point where his horn was chopped off. **"Wait-...."** He felt on his head. One-and-a-half horn still, and it hurt. Padlock grunted and rested his hands on his knees. **"Where's the other half, Therr? And where's Morg?"**

 **"The green one with the axe?"** Therr grumbled. **"Hmpf. Dealt with him. There."** He pointed at a shimmering mass lying on the ground. Padlock frowned a little. **"Good riddance to bad rubbish-"** He walked over to Morg and almost choked on his breath when he saw the man still breathing... Still alive. **"He's not dead."** Padlock hummed as he carefully poked Morg with the tip of his dagger. Therr hopped after him and sniffed the air. **"Nuh, didn't kill him. Now he'll be food for the big worms."** He snickered, baring his teeth and letting a high cackling laugh escape into the sky. **"Horn is here."** He pointed at the curved green thing, now hanging as a pendant around his neck. **"You sure it's not dangerous?"** Padlock asked, doubting. And Therr nodded heavily. **"No dripping, it's from a fallen and I'm taking it with me!"** Padlock chuckled and tapped Therr on the arm, encouragingly. **"Then it's good."**

Was it a new day already, and had Padlock been out for an entire night, or was it same the still day as before? Padlock didn't know. All he knew was where to go now, and that he was alive. And that was good. **"You know what?"** He thought out loud. **"Help me get him up."**

 **"WHY?!"** Therr snarled. **"He's better off dead!"** Padlock quickly hushed the hulking gnoll by saying: **"Prisoner."** , which made Therr smile really, really wide. **"Prisoner. Okay!"**

They lifted Morg back up with a little bit of effort. Even now, he was still breathing. 

Padlock reached out to Morg... And slapped him hard in the face. 

**"Wake up. Now."**

Morg growled in response, blinking and moving his arm upwards. Therr drew his spear and snarled, but Padlock held Therr back. **"Shhhh."** Morg only used his hand to support his aching head. **"Uhnnnn, by Görne-..."** Now Padlock felt no sting to his head. He only looked at Morg, fascinated that the paladin was still alive. Captured, but alive. He found it remarkable. **"How are you feeling?"** He asked, out of the blue. He might be their prisoner now, but being courteous never hurt anyone. Morg blinked a few more times, set his head straight, and looked at Padlock. No more anger was in his eyes. The green glow had been driven out. 

He remained silent, unmoving. So did Padlock. Only Therr paced around the two, growling on occasion. 

Morg knelt down. And among all the things that had happened since they met Morg, this was so far the weirdest thing yet. He was at their throats just before, ready to kill. What had happened? 

**"I thank thee, Lord, that in thy n-"**

**"Woah, woah, woah! Why this all of a sudden?"** Padlock interrupted him. **"What happened? Did Therr hit you in the head too hard? Why... That?"** Morg stood up, towering over Padlock again. **"You better not attack me again."** Padlock said, stern. **"Far from it, Lord. I see now that I was wrongly attacking you. We are with the same Lord, you and I. Though I am not sure about.... Him."** He glanced at Therr who snapped at him violently. **"Therr."** Padlock gave a warning. He looked back at Morg, who was adjusting some of his armour. **"Explain."**

 **"It occurred after I had cut off half of your demonic horn, Lord. You yelled and would not stop yelling, until the wind around us blew so hard that you levitated, and the beast and I were toppled to the ground. You enveloped yourself with a black-red hue then, and tendrils appeared and pierced me. It was then that Lord Görne appeared before me in a flash. All but the gnoll lost consciousness, and then I knew. I knew Lord Görne was on our side, somewhere within you. That is why now I pledge my life to you."** Morg, after saying that, knelt down again and lowered his head. 

Padlock was left baffled. **"What..... I- Is-...."** He looked at Therr with a completely puzzled look on his face. **"Is this true?"** He could not remember that at all, he was knock-out cold when it happened... Allegedly. 

Therr sniffed the air, scratched the ground and nodded. He kept a close eye on Morg. **"Yeh."** The hand on his spear clenched and he curled his lip, snarling. **"Prisoner?"** Padlock sighed. **"Fine. As dumbfounded as I am by your... Explanation, Morg, I believe you."** He looked at his hands, somehow believing to feel something there. A tingling sensation in his fingertips. Tendrils shooting out of him, huh. **"And I think, because of that, that we might just-..."** Therr snarled harder. What was he going to say? **"DON'T!"** The gnoll yelled. **"DON'T!"**

 **"Nah, we might just let you deal with that bandit in the woods."**

Therr cackled to himself as Morg stood back up, his armour creaking and wobbly. Padlock smiled, crossing his arms. **"I would gladly, Lord... With you at my side."**

-

_~ **"So NOW it's getting good!"** The boy yelled. He leaned forward on the table and slammed his fists in anticipation. Margaretha smiled, knowing that she truly had the boy in tow now. She grabbed another scroll out of the pile on the table, this one looking a little more recent than the others. **"Yes it is, isn't it? Now I must tell you that, since this story is so ancient, it had to be revised over and over until there was a legible version. Lucky for us,"** She unrolled the scroll, the boy slammed his fists on the table once more while the princess next to him gave him a death-glare. A few drops of ink had bounced out of the inkwell near her paper. **"I have it here."** ~_

_-_

They arrived at the forest in the nick of time. Morg was up front, morning-star at the ready and having healed himself beforehand with a spell. Padlock walked behind him and Therr sort of scrambled after them while staying as close as he could to Padlock _and_ covering their trails. They would not want to be found, and caught off-guard. Or worse...

 **"So, do you know anything more of this bandit?"** Padlock asked after a whole while of nothing. With Morg up front they slowly carved a path through the branches, leaves and the thick underbrush of the forest. The roof of leaves obscured almost all the sunlight, but that did not hinder Padlock. He could see fine. He was a Shadow-Mutant after all. His eyes glowed white. 

**"Only that he is small, fast, incomprehensible and highly dangerous."** Morg grumbled as he hacked down a tall bush, and they came across a the curve of a path in the forest, cut off by foliage. It looked like it hadn't been used in a while, littered with fallen twigs and grass and moss. **"Safe so far."** Padlock raised his shoulders and nearly stepped on the path. **"WAIT!"** Therr growled. He dashed forward, bumping Morg out of the way and sniffing the way ahead. He huffed and scratched the ground, lifted his head to the two others and snarled. **"Path seems old... But it's used. Bandit near."** Therr dashed off, and Morg walked after him, and so did Padlock, dumbfounded. **"Morg... How do you mean incomprehensible?"** White eyes peered into the tightly-packed rows of endless-seeming trees. **"Hungry. Be back soon."** Therr disappeared into the bushes after a short snarl. 

Morg stepped on, morning-star clasped tight in his hands. The density of the forest was straining him, as he looked very nauseous and every step seemed to get more and more dizzying for him. But his talk was the same. **"It is just as I say it."** Padlock raised an eyebrow at that. **"Incomprehensible. It is only what I have heard. It speaks in a way no one understands. He might be a being we simply don't know the tongue of yet. But we will find that out once we encounter it."** -

**"Did you see it before? What if it can cast a spell on us in its 'incomprehensible' speech?"** Padlock had more questions. Morg shook no. **"I know nothing of it. But if it has magic, I can counteract that. We are safe."** Padlock only huffed. **"I hope so."**

Something lay in the middle the disused-looking road, and it was only a short while before Morg and Padlock encountered it too. Therr was gone still, hunting in the thick bushes. 

**"Halt. Look there,"** Morg stood still and pointed at the thing on the road. It lay on a bed of leaves, sitting perfectly still with one small ray of sunlight from the canopy shining down on it. 

**"A... Gem?"** Padlock's eyes shimmered. His inner thief kicked in. **"We must be on the right trail!"** Padlock stepped towards the red gem, which was as big about as big as a pinecone. But Morg stopped him with his arm. 

**"Halt, Lord. As right on the trail as we might be, I cannot help but feel that something is off."** Morg carefully walked around it, and poked the red gem with the tip of his morning-star. A rustle of leaves, and out of nowhere a net appeared and went upwards, catching the net and getting the morning-star stuck with it. With one hard tug, the weapon was loose, and the red gem dropped on the forest ground. **"Nice. Good job, Morg."** Padlock snickered as he picked up the red thing. As he had no place to put it he just threw the thing between his hands. Morg nodded. "Of course, Lord." 

With still no sign of Therr, the Shadow-Mutant and the Half-Orc walked on until they came to another blockage in the road. **"More foliage... Can we cut around it?"** Padlock took out his dagger and poked the leaves on the road-block. Nothing happened. **"Or through it."** Morg hummed, and the two began carving a path through, until they came upon....

 **"The cart! There it is!"** Padlock remarked, slightly hushed and out of breath. He was getting thirsty and this nausea was doing neither him or Morg any good. **"Finally."** Morg cut away one more small bush before they got to the cart. It was as tall as Padlock, filled to the brim with food, valuables and basic supplies. A small camp with a tent and a dampened fireplace were next to the cart. The goods were heaped up in the cart. Padlock frowned at it. **"Now, I know I'm a thief and all, but stealing from _so_ many people? That's not even theft anymore. That's just cruel." **Morg shut his eyes, leaning a little bit. **"Urgh... Let us find your friend and deal with this bandit now before we get this cart back to Skrallingdjar."**

Padlock nodded, and walked over to the cart, climbing on the edge of the thing and looking through the goods. He still had the gem tight in his hand. **"But first..."** He found what he was looking for, and tossed it at Morg. He barely caught it. **"An amphora, Lord?"** From inside he could hear the gentle sloshing of liquid. **"You looked like you could use a drink, Morg. They wouldn't mind missing one bottle. I need you alive for this, after all."** Padlock smiled and grabbed a couple of fruits from the cart. Morg sighed as he uncorked the amphora. **"As you wish, Lord."**

They drank and rested for a few minutes until they heard rustling out of the bushes. **"Must be Therr, back."** Padlock smiled. **"Nice. Let's hope he's found the bandit so we can get out of here." - "And then the people of Skrallingdjar will have their belongings back."** Morg hummed as he took another swig of the now nearly-empty amphora. He was sitting on the dusty leaf-covered ground. Not surprising, as the amphora had alcohol in it. **"Urg... Pardon me, Lord, but I am not this experienced with intoxicating beverages yet."**

Padlock raised an eyebrow. **"Is this... The only way you talk, or is this because you're just wasted?"**

 **"I'vvvve... Been RAISED, to talk like this, Lord-"** Morg hiccupped. Some twigs snapped into the bushes. They heard a bestial grunt. "That must be Therr." Padlock smiled. **"That means he's probably gotten the bandit. Let's go-"** He moved through the bushes, and was caught off-guard by a small, fast being, slashing something sharp right at him. Padlock toppled over while the small being landed just a jump away. 

**"Ah'rite! Wha've we got 'ere?"**

Morg was too drunk to fully realise what was in front of them, but Padlock knew. Clad in leather armour it was, dirtied black hair barely covered under a rag of cloth, functioning as a headband. A mud-slathered, scarred and bearded face with green eyes piercing through the dark. One hand wielded a deadly rapier, shining as much as the eyes of the being. 

The bandit. 

Padlock slowly got up behind the bandit, who'd thought him dead. The bandit didn't notice him, and instead prattled on. 

**"Ah see ah've got me-self some unwanted guests, ye? Ah'll just deal wi-that now, but first, ye can start by piling up all those lovely goodies yer' carryin, lads."** The bandit grinned. **"Or ah'll rip 'em from ye."**

Slowly, Padlock lifted his dagger to deal with the bandit, but in a flash the tiny being, who was about half as tall as Padlock, turned around and deflected the dagger's blow. The bandit quickly lifted their arm, ducked past Padlock and then swooshed violently with the rapier, allowing no space of movement forward for Padlock who quickly jumped back. **"You're the bandit, I take it?"**

 **"Aye. Einkill Balderk's me name. Ah won't ask for yer's... Names mean little tae the dead."** Chuckled the bandit in response, who put one arm behind his back. He had a rough and raspy, but pretty high-pitched voice, as if someone downed a dozen shots and then entered a grunting-contest. **"Ye got a wee bit tae close to me cache, lad... Horn-twat... Whatever ye are."** Einkill the bandit raised an eyebrow and laughed. **"No matter. I'll deal wit' ye just as ah dealt with those other bastards that tried taking it back!"** Einkill jumped up with the shining rapier raised once again. It had some red liquid dripping from it. Padlock stepped back in response, and felt something sticky on his arm. He looked at his hand. The same red liquid dripped from his fingers. 

**"Blood... Thanks, asshole."** Padlock said sarcastically. **"Just what I needed today."** He got increasingly angry. First getting lost, Therr leaving without a trace, Morg being too wasted to react, and now _this_. These events bundled and cropped together, made the shadow-mutant mad. 

And something had brewed up within him when he got mad. 

A dark hue crawled over him, like a shadowy ghost, as Padlock put the dagger back behind his belt and let go of control. He trusted the dark powers who had helped him defeat Therr and Morg once before. But Einkill did not move one inch. In fact, the small bandit saw this as an even greater challenge, and dashed forward with the rapier to give the boy with the horns another deep cut. The forces beyond Padlock's control forced him to move aside, and as he did the enveloping shadows saved him from the cut of the rapier. He subconsciously extended his arm as the pitch-black tendrils escaped from his fingers, violently slithering towards the bandit like hungry snakes. The green horns on his head only pricked him a little. Einkill skilfully avoided them, and cut off some with a low slide and a high swing. But alas, only black smoke would come out. Then the bandit jumped right into another attack, screaming wildly. 

Einkill did not expect the boy, wrapped in shadows, to hold onto his rapier with only one hand. And push him to the ground on top of that. With a twirl of his hand he left Einkill's own bare, while holding the handle of the weapon now himself. Einkill fell hard to the dirtied forest floor with a grunt while dust and leaves flew everywhere. Padlock did not move, save from rising off the ground, held up by dark yet divine powers alone. These same dark divine powers were keeping him up, covering him and keeping him safe. He tossed the rapier to the side, only half-aware of what he was doing, and once again extended his hand towards Einkill to send the tendrils outward, about to deliver the final blow to the carriage-thief of Skrallingdjar. 

But the dwarf appeared to have other plans. 

Right before the tendrils drilled their ghastly beings into the forest floor, Einkill jumped up and, with a clenched fist, smacked Padlock right into his face. His focus came back, as did his control, but the shadowy powers were wafted away like a cloud of black flour. A giant headache followed. Einkill smacked Padlock onto the ground and beat his face with his fists while the poor shadow-mutant lay screaming for Morg to help. But Morg was all too busy trying not to throw up in the bushes. 

**"Don't think any of 'em can help ye now, disgosten demon-lad!"** Einkill yelled as he raised another bloody fist. **"Any?...-"** Padlock thought while he sputtered out blood. His face hurt immensely, the bandit's fists felt like they were made of pure rock! **"Any..."** His painful face turned into a grin. **"Therr."**

 **"Who'?"** Einkill slightly lowered his fist. **"Did ah hit ye tae hard?"** Padlock shook his head, and laughed between groans. He took a deep breath, which was kind-of hard to do with a violent bandit resting his knees on your chest, and yelled, from the top of his lungs...

**"THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR!!!"**

In only seconds, rustling came from the bushes. And it came closer and closer... The bandit got unnerved. Before he could deal one more punch to the shadow-mutant beneath him he was slammed onto the ground by a feral force who roared at the top of his lungs. 

**"FOUND HIM! FOUND HIM!"**

Padlock crawled upright, and looked delighted as Therr continuously bit the bandit and slammed him against the ground and the trees, over and over again. It lessened the pain of being hit in the face over and over, if only a little. And when Therr was done, Padlock felt okay enough to stand up. Morg was still not okay, leaning against the cart, sweating heavily. The heat of the forest combined with the drink did not do well on the armoured paladin. Padlock clapped his hands as the gnoll held the unconscious dwarf in one hand, dangling the bleeding bandit above the ground in victory. **"Yeah you did, buddy."**

They carried the cart out of the forest, Therr tied with riding-tack to the front, Einkill unconsciously dangling from the back, from the wrists, like a criminal. The cart was still packed with loot, and they threw Einkill's rapier and equipment on there as well. They rode alongside the road, on the grass and the ground so they wouldn't get burned... Only mudded-up. Morg sat half-asleep on the riding-seat while Padlock walked alongside his gnoll-friend, having a cold piece of meat wrapped in cloth against his face to dull the pain.

 **"We bring him now? Or we kill, then we eat?"** Therr grumbled, smiling. Padlock smirked. **"You know what the plan is. We _have_ to bring him back, then we'll be done with him and we'll be free to do whatever we want, finding that bird-demon, for one. Good riddance... Urg."** Padlock closed his eyes for a short moment, and hissed in pain. **"Does he have rocks for hands or something?"** \- **"Maybe. He not made of rock, though. He made of flesh."** Therr's smile cut bigger and now Padlock could see the red between his teeth. **"Yes... I guess so."** As much as he'd gotten accustomed to seeing gruesome things, being a former criminal and all, the gnoll still managed to unnerve him with it, whatever the gnoll happened to do. They looked behind their shoulder as they heard Morg ramble something in his half-drunken state. He looked better once they got out of the forest, but was still very much 'out of it'. 

**"We should... At leash', ash a sign offff our.... MmmmmERCIFUL lord Görne, b'fore me in the FLESH, HEAL this-" A loud, deep HIC! "-Thissum... This, this- Urrrrgh..."** He slumped back into the seat. Padlock laughed. **"Can't get the words out, Morg?"** Therr laughed along without knowing what the funny thing about this was. But Padlock thought, long and hard, until Skrallingdjar became once again visible to the horizon, as only a small fraction of what it should be. A white dot perched against the hillside... With clouds of black rising from it.

 **"You're right, Morg. Maybe we should patch the bandit up before we get there."** The cart came to a shocking halt and Therr began snarling. **"Why?! Why not leave him for dead?!"** He clearly was not happy with the idea. Morg, who nearly bounced off the cart from the shock, began spouting drunken slurs once again. **"DO NOT take Lllllord Görne'sch name 'n vain, you- you- you...."** HIC! Padlock only looked at the pillaring clouds above Skrallingdjar, with mild concern strewn across his face. 

**"I just have a sneakingly awful suspicion of what's waiting out there."**

**"Ye could say... THAT again, lads... Urk."** With a shock everyone up front but Morg turned to the back of the cart. Was the bandit still awake? Or _alive_ , for that matter? Padlock ran to the back and even Therr threw off his tack to come take a look. Morg tried, and failed, and he fell off the seat, his armour clattering and him mumbling about something holy.

 **"You're still.... Alive?"** Padlock asked, baffled. And yes, the dwarf brought himself back up, sputtering and covered under layer upon layer of mud and blood. His clothes had gotten dirty and became loose, and his wounds had sand in them. Not that good. **"Ye, what'd YOU think? That ah'd roll o'er and die like THAT? Ah'm no bird. Ah carry ma weight."** The dwarf kicked away something in the mud, and it landed in front of Padlock's feet. He jumped back. That thing did NOT look friendly. Therr sniffed the thing, held it in front of his face, and even put his tongue against it. His expression turned scrunched and sour. **"Gnolls."** He threw the thing, a rusty spearhead covered in feathers, back at the ground. Now, the better they looked, the more spearheads were hidden among the tall reeds. Footprints, too. Lots and lots of them. 

**"Aye, lads. Gnolls. A whole pack o' em. Walked right by us. Bu', luckily these are ah li'l older. The _real_ recent tracks," **and Einkill pointed both his mudded and bloodied hands towards Skrallingdjar. **"Be there, prolly."**

 **"We can deal with that later."** Padlock said, full of doubt. **"We need you healed first. Morg?"** Padlock looked back at the stumbling half-orc in the mud. **"Can you slap some sense into him as well, Therr?"** The gnoll grinned, grasping his spear tight. But a rise of arid heat came over them, and the air rumbled as a flash of red lightning hit Morg. **_"There is no need for that."_** The sky rumbled, in a voice Padlock Recognised. **"Mr. Wind!"** He screamed. Morg screamed. The others (apart from Morg) jumped back, and looked in wonder as he, chosen paladin in the Order of Görne, arose with red lightning flickering off of him, bouncing on his armour. It was like nothing had happened to him at all. 

**"Leave that to me, Lord."**

They lay the still-bleeding Einkill down on the grass, and Morg took out whatever tools he could find that would help. His censer, filled again with smoke, a few strokes of cotton for the dwarf's wounds, and wine. **"What's that wine for, Morg?"** Padlock curiously asked, as sometimes the red lightning prickled against his arm as well. Out of reflex, he pulled back. **"To cleanse his inner wounds. Leave us be."** The dwarf complained, crossing his arms. **"Can ye hurry 't up a lil', lad? We 'aven't got all day!"**

The healing began. The smoke rose around them as Padlock and Therr sat in the grass and watched. Padlock watched the healing, feeling oddly attracted to the smoke and the presence of Mr. Wind that he still felt, and Therr stood guard with his nose in the wind, to watch for any signs of gnolls. Luckily, there weren't any yet. Morg started humming, another song from long ago, words between hymns and spells between sentences. Morg raised his hands, and soon enough, a bright-blue hue washed around them like an embracing stream. Padlock sat half-asleep, listening along to the words that were so curiously familiar to him. 

\---

_**"He sang in words forgotten, a healing-spell to praise Görne and give the afflicted their strengths back."** Explained the scribe, who quickly unrolled the scroll once more, and a little leaflet fell out. It looked as yellowed and old as the scroll was. Margaretha quickly glanced at the leaflet as it flew under the table like a feather in the wind, and then at the princess and the protector, who were hunched over in their seats, eagerly listening, with mouths agape and eyes wide open. **"Where's that translation? I can't read the song without a tra-"** Before Margaretha could finish, Ayan had already picked up the leaflet and practically pushed it into her hands. **"Read it! Do it!"** He clenched his fists and smacked the table. It rumbled and some scrolls nearly fell off. The princess gave him a mean look after that. **"Is that before or after you destroy this entire room?"**_

_Margaret hushed them, smiling in all patience. **"If you two please...."** She coughed shortly and held aloft both the leaflet and the scroll, even standing up as to sound better. _

\---

**"Waxing and waning as the tides of the moon,**

**Gifts of the gifted one, grant them thy boon,**

**To live and to breathe, to think and to judge.**

**A gift of such low cost would not be as much."**

And magic itself became real at that moment, and the time around the paladin and the bandit seemed to fade, to reverse, even, as the small one's wounds mended, his blood stopped seeping and his cuts and bruises faded as if they were never there. Softly, the glow from Morg's armoured hands faded, and his focussed gaze averted to Padlock who had only looked on in awe. Morg, who assumed Padlock wanted an explanation, slightly smiled and raised a finger while he applied the cotton strokes, dipped in wine. **"As wise as Lord Görne is, his knowledge makes him vain. He is all-knowing, but it burdens him greatly...- Where are you going?"** Morg ended his explanation with a questioning tone, as Einkill got up as soon as the light from Morg's hands started fading. 

**"Tae Skrallingdjar, wherrr'else?!"** The dwarf rudely replied. He stomped off past the cart but Therr clutched his shoulder just in time, bringing him to a halt. **"You stay. We not done with you."** Snarled Therr. Einkill shook the gnoll off. Despite nearly being killed by the beast just a few hours ago, there was not a drop of fear to be spotted on him. This was suspicious to Padlock. He crossed his arms, and got up. The presence of Mr. Wind seemed completely gone at this point, so Morg too stood up, still in his armour, and hurriedly picked up his stuff, and together they surrounded the dwarf-bandit.

 **"You seem very keen on going back to the place of crime, Einkill. Why is that?"** Padlock asked, still crossing his arms, and speaking in a tone of guilt. He wanted to know. He knew Einkill didn't do this for no reason at all. There had to be a reason. There _had_ to be. 

**"Why dae YOU care?!"** Einkill growled back, but not as loud as Therr, who put extra pressure on the dwarf's unarmored shoulder. **"Now-now, Therr, we wouldn't want to nearly cripple him again..."** Padlock looked to his right. Skrallingdjar still looked dangerous with that black cloud above it. **"We'll leave that to them, in the city."** \- **"Good luck wit' ye, if there still be people alive right now... Hah!"** Einkill put his hands on his waist and let out an annoyed groan as Therr held his shoulder harder again. Now it started to hurt. And not in the good way. 

**"Repent, at least. Lord Görne is merciful to those who state their reasonings, lest they are valid."** Morg added, standing as still as a statue. Einkill spit in Morg's direction which earned him another hard squeeze. Now he winced. 

**"You're not making it easier like this, Einkill... If that's even your real name."** Padlock now played the false-identity-card, common among criminals. Einkill's face shifted, and shuddered and shook. Padlock grinned. Aha. He got a catch. **"Or is there someone that the people of Skrallingdjar do not want to see again?"**

**"NO, LAD! NO- NO NO NO NO!"** Einkill waved his arms around as fast as he possibly could. Morg frowned. **"The people of Skrallingdjar do not like disguises."** He poked Einkill's rough headband, and Einkill only recoiled and readjusted the thing to make it tighter. Therr still kept his clawed hand firm. As little an idea he had of what was going on around him, he wanted to take part. **"Ah can explain, lads.... If- If ye let me."**

Padlock looked at Morg, and Morg looked back. They looked at Therr and together they nodded, after some seconds of silent thought. **"Fine. It's up to them what to do with you anyway. Explain."** Padlock hummed. Einkill, for the first time, defeatedly sunk his head downwards and sighed. **"Ah took the cart tae save its contents from being' ransacked by the gnolls o'er there. Ah was going tae give it back after the raid, honest! Bu' it just looks like there'll be no need for it now..."** He signed at the white dot against the hill in the distance, ever still emitting black smoke. It slowly filled the sky. **"Uh-huh. How did you know there would be gnolls, though?"** Padlock did not believe this. **"Are you a spy for them, perhaps?"** Morg added to the question. Now Einkill frowned, raising his lip in disbelief. **"Yer' asking that tae ME, an' not THE LITERAL GNOLL B'HIND ME?!"** Therr did not take kindly to that. He threw Einkill to the ground and nearly stabbed him with his spear, but Padlock pushed the gnoll back. **"WOAH-WOAH-WOAH! EASY! WE ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS ON OUR HANDS AS IT IS! A DEATH WON'T BE ONE OF THEM, YET!"** The gnoll huffed, putting his spear back and angrily going back to the cart to scratch and bite the outsides. He had to vent his frustrations somehow. **"I WOULDN'T!"** He roared. **"I WOULDN'T!"**

Morg had closed his eyes, humming to himself, and Padlock was getting seriously fed up over this small defiant man. Yet, that fierceness he had in him awoke within Padlock some spark of curiosity, and perhaps, maybe even a touch of respect... But not just yet.

 **"One, that was rude. Two, Therr wouldn't do that, he's with me, and three, answer the goddamn question before I get mad, and wring this dagger of mine right up your-"** \- Morg put a hand over Padlock's mouth. Einkill grinned. **"Damn fine save, greenie."** Padlock grumbled as Morg stepped over to stand right in front of Einkill. Awkward. Einkill barely reached the height of Morg's stomach. He painfully lifted his head up to the half-orc, as his muscles were still a bit sore. **"Wha'?"**

The wind blew. **"Let us keep it as simple as it can be, dwarf. We defeated you in combat, and if what you claim is true, then you must be the one to help us deliver these goods back to Skrallingdjar, gnolls or not."** \- Einkill shrugged. **"Pff, fine. Ah got nowhere else tae go any-"** -

**"But that is not all. I had been the one to heal you of your injuries, and ask Lord Görne for your forgiveness. By that fact alone I am the one responsible for your life, and thus you are under my watchful eye and guard, until we arrive at Skrallingdjar."**

Einkill protested. **"Ah don't need no bloody babysit'er, lad!"** Einkill looked to his side, to Padlock who had run up to Therr to stop him from breaking the cart completely. Then he looked back at Morg, a smile of a devious thought or two scratched upon his face. **"Görne a' no Görne, ye'd need help wi' those two... A'right, then. Bu' after tha', yer on yer own!"** He extended a hand to seal the deal which Morg looked at in slight confusion. The paladin had been inside his temple too long. He had no idea what to do with that extended hand. **"Then, it is settled."** Morg walked away, with Einkill trailing behind him, snickering. 

**"We are set to go. Lord Görne has aided us once again."** Padlock smiled at what Morg had to say but had to calm the raging gnoll down with a fish to the face. Therr groaned, and grabbed the large fish in both his hands. **"Today fry-day fish-day?"** Without waiting for an answer, Therr devoured the fish, leaving Morg in shock and Einkill looking in wonder. The dwarf poked the half-orc with his elbow. **"Oi."** Morg gave him a blank stare. **"What."** \- **"Will ah get mah weapons 'n stuff back when we get there?"** Einkill longingly looked at the rapier and the armour in the cart. **"Perhaps."** Sighed Morg. **"As long as you have no intent on attacking us."** Einkill shrugged and hopped onto the back of the cart, chuckling like a monkey. Padlock carefully led Therr back to the riding-tack before tying him back on. Morg took his place on the bench of the cart. **"Another involuntary member of this weird crew, that's just grand."** Padlock laughed to himself as he threw another big fish towards the city, to get Therr to move. And luckily, the cart moved, wobbly and creaking out of all of its cracks and tears. He clung to the side of the damaged cart and hoped it would hold, at least until they got there. 

**"Where off to, Lord?"** Morg asked, looking back to make sure he had not forgotten anything.

Padlock laughed again, his tail swishing in the wind and no awful prick in his horns. Even the looming threat of the dark smoke and the gnolls that were apparently nearby didn't faze him now. 

**"To Skrallingdjar, where else?!"** He shouted. Einkill heard that and laughed along heartedly with the boy he had tried to end with his bare fists only a few hours ago. **"HAAA, THA'S A GOOD LAD!"** Padlock put a hand over his eyes to see anything in the distance. No sign of the bird-demon, but there was rustling in the tall grass up ahead, and howls... Lots of snivelling howls, similar to Therr's. He seemed to hear them too, and cackled along. Neither of them had a clue if Therr found it funny or not, or if he was calling to them, only Therr. He cackled because he was nervous, but that he wouldn't say. He wouldn't want to seem weak towards his group. His _new_ group.

 **"To Skrallingdjar we go,"** Padlock repeated, as the stone-white settlement on the edge of civilisation, perched on the side of a tall hill, with columns of black smoke that circled into one in the reddened sky, became closer and more and more visible, and the howls and chuckles were heard fleeting away from them, but still awfully close. Padlock took a deep breath of the smoky air and clung onto the wobbly cart as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. His horns tickled. 

**"To Skrallingdjar, and then... We'll see."**


	6. Respite in the Ruined City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With newfound allies and a newfound safe place, if only temporary, Padlock discovers a little more about just who he is, and what he was used for...

The four and the cart went onwards. Skrallingdjar was not as far as they thought, but neither were the gnolls. Far into the distance Therr spotted them running, and he growled, but the gnolls did nothing. Nothing than run. Away from them. Laughing. 

They eventually stood before the gates of the ruined city... Or what was left. The ancient-looking doors were torn down and broken, fresh scratches and deep cuts and dents marked the walls. Remains of things once-living laid scattered on the ground, and disheveled weapons were scattered like sprinkles on a cake. They looked around before they stepped past the city gates, just to be sure. **"Perhaps there can still be gnolls in there."** Padlock warned them. **"We'd better be careful."** He peered into the city first, past the giant open gates... **"No way to close these now."** He laughed to himself. Einkill laughed at that. **"We cu'd put pile that' gate up with 'em corpses!"** But nobody else seemed to share that laugh with him. Especially not Therr. He undid the riding-tack, growled out **"Hrrrrrg,"** and kicked a pebble out of his way, it cracked lightly against the stones as it ricocheted and flew off further into the abandoned streets. **"No. Gnolls leave no corpses."** He grumbled. 

Morg suddenly went down on his knees, and started praying. Einkill was starting to walk off. **"Hey-hey! Where are you going suddenly?! We're not done here!"** Padlock yelled, unnerved that Einkill was willingly going. Did he want to get himself killed by gnolls or something? Einkill looked back. His eyes went wide and he quickly jumped up the cart to grab his stuff. **"Greenie said 'til Skrallingdjar, did 'e? Well, 'ere we are, a'm off."** \- **"And to where?"** Retaliated Padlock. **"There's no-one living around except for us and those gnolls."** \- **"Can handle 'em."** Einkill shrugged off Padlock's warning, and walked. Padlock only huffed, raising one eyebrow. Two could play it that game. **"Fine then. Go. There'll be enough goodies out here for us, and none for you. You'll only have your gnolls to fight."** Padlock snickered as he looked at Einkill, who took one step, hesitantly took one more, then groaned and joined them once more. **"RRRAAH, FINE!"** Morg stood up from his prayer just in time. **"Then my and Görne's protection will be with you as long as you stand with us-"** The dwarf stomped past them, into the ruined city. **"AH, SHUT YER' HOLES! LET'S FIND US A GUUD BED!"** But Padlock, not amused with this dwarf's antics, grabbed him by the collar just in time, and dragged him back. Einkill was in front of him now, and Therr on the side. Morg, who did not seem to take this queue, stood slightly behind them. **"Wha'?!"** Einkill grumbled. And from here Padlock could see that this odd green glow was still in Einkill's eyes. His mind raced. **'But,'** he thought, **'We battled and everything! Therr beat the shit out of him even, and-!'** Now he seemed to get it. So far, he'd gotten Therr and Morg to his side by using this weird magic that Mr. Wind had given him, and that weird bird-demon that they attacked, he seemed to be hurt by the magic as well. The influence of that sickening green was as much as gone from Therr and Morg now. But since Therr was the one that had beaten Einkill up, and not him, it hadn't left him yet. Padlock gulped.

He needed to do something about that before it got out of hand. 

And out of nowhere, not having either the energy or the urge for an all-out battle, Padlock breathed in deep, closed his eyes and put a hand on Einkill's shoulder. The wind blew. **"Let's hope this works..."** Padlock hissed to himself. Einkill only looked at him in a bewildered stupor. **"Givin' friendly pats, lad? Wha's this about?"** He laughed it off until he felt a weird prick that seemed to go right through his shoulder-pads, and into his skin. Then everything went fuzzy for him. 

Therr cocked his head, and snuffed Padlock's hand. **"What you do? Rip off arm? I can do that too."** He grinned meanly but Padlock only shook his head. **"We're changing him."** Now Morg looked up, approaching them. **"Change them how? Is Lord Görne alright with this?"** Padlock raised his shoulders as the wind blew through his torn clothes once again. **"I don't know about that, but Mr. Wind sure seems to be."** Padlock tried to think of nothing, and let the magic do its trick. Einkill only stared at him with blank, green eyes. The vile taint was being washed away. **"After all,"** Padlock laughed slightly as he opened his eyes. A pure, pale white. **"We'd need another companion sooner or later, if we're going to keep up with those gnolls."** Morg's eyebrows went up in surprise. **"I... See."** He then lowered his head and placed an arm over his armoured chest, something the other two found a bit odd. Not Einkill, he was too dazed to know what was going on. **"Then by the grace of Görne I shall too protect him, as I shall protect you, as I feel you require me even after this deed is done."** Padlock nodded back to him, but Morg couldn't see. **"With those gnolls around, yeah."** He looked to his side, to Therr. He sat down and grumbled. **"You too, Therr?"** No response. Padlock gently nudged him on the shoulder. **"Will you protect the group too, bud?"** One short gruff **"Hmm!"** was all the confirmation he got. **"The _whole_ group?"** Padlock corrected himself. And now Therr was silent for a whole minute, standing up and prowling around in small circles in front of the city-gates. The gnolls howled faraway. He came back, looking slightly less mad. That relieved Padlock. **"Yeh. Fine."** Snarled the gnoll. 

**"WHERE PUT CART?!"** Therr roared out shortly after. The group was walking along with Therr, pulling while Einkill lay in the back of the cart, suffering a grand headache. His eyes were hazy. Padlock tried hushing the gnoll. **"Quiet, buddy! You don't know how many of those gnolls can still be out here... Plus, we got someone with a bad headache in the back."** Therr only huffed, but stayed quiet afterwards. Morg kept a close eye on everything, with one hand on the handle of his morning-star. **"Our first concern would indeed be that. But finding a place to stay for the night, one that is relatively safe, would be about as important, if not even more so."** Padlock nodded, sighing through his nose. **"I know, Morg. I know. Thanks."** Einkill crawled over to the front of the cart, past all the gathered goodies. **"Oi... 's Greenie always talk like tha?"** Padlock snickered without looking at the dwarf. **"Yeah."** Einkill groaned and fell back into the cart, making Padlock snicker even more. **"You better prepare. There'll be a whole lot more where that came from!"** Morg, who was unaware that they were talking about him, turned halfway and looked at the shadow-mutant near him. **"Lord Padlock... I regret to inform you that this is all that was in the cart. There is no more where that came from. Either the goods were destroyed, or-"** \- **"Can ye PLEASE shut yer' hole for a second, thank you!"** Einkill interrupted from the back of the cart. And then it was silent, with Padlock only occasionally snickering, and the group continued searching the city for a place to rest and store the cart-stuff safely, a stench of abandonment and danger still hanging thick in the air. 

A couple more hours of searching, cart-riding and weapon-pulling every time they heard a noise in a lonely corridor later, the group found a low, but large building, stacked on top of another building. These two buildings were someone in a far corner of the city, near what seemed to once be the marketplace. These buildings also had a good view on the big hill at the other end of the city.. These buildings cut out of white, thick stone, like every other building in Skrallingdjar. Even the city's walls were made out of this stone. There were no windows, and the top-building was smeared with blood and claw-marks. **"The smear with the marks seemed to signify that these poor souls were dragged out of their homes."** Morg said without any viable emotion. Padlock gulped. Therr only snuffed the tracks. Einkill, still half-conscious, peered over the cart-railing and looked at the marks. His eyes went wide and he lost his balance. He landed hard on the ground, grumbled, and stood up. He was visibly avoiding to look at the marks. **"Why've we stopped?"** He asked. Padlock pointed with a blank face towards the slaughter on the ground. **"Maybe this is why."** He looked at his gnoll-friend. **"Therr? Why did we stop?"** Therr walked back to the cart without saying a word. **"Gnoll... If you wish to leave them an offering, then-"**

The gnoll gripped the cart tight, and with a sudden swing of his mighty muscles he lifted the cart and tossed it on top of the stacked buildings. He let out a loud roar to strengthen his toss. The cart creaked violently, but it was still pretty much intact. Morg, Padlock and even Einkill stared wide-eyed and gape-mouthed to Therr, who stomped past them and went into the building. **"Never mind."** Morg said, this once without his monotone voice. **"I retract what I said."** Padlock turned his head to another faraway cackle before he heard Therr yell from inside. **"PLACE SAFE! LET'S GO INSIDE AND SLEEP!"**

It was a library, or it used to be. This place had writings. Rows upon rows of books stacked in holes in the white wall, which served as a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. More newfangled leather-bound books were scattered all over the floor, torn and sometimes soaked in blood. Scrolls lay as tiny confetti-like snippets among the books and the splatters, but some were still untouched. A few stone slabs lay stacked in a row against the front wall. The gnolls did not seem to care for reading much. They cared only for the intelligent meat that was once inside this place. But they were far gone. And only the lost knowledge remained. **"A shame it came to this."** Morg said,back to his normal tone. He sighed deeply as he stroked his fingers across one of the open pages in the book, splattered with innocent blood. **"If the time arises, by Görne, I swear I shall avenge these poor souls. The gnolls will pay for that what they have done."** Morg was the only one left downstairs, examining the wreckage, as he seemed to be the only one interested in reading and writing. 

The others, on the other hand, were upstairs, through the spiral staircase which, too, was carved from white stone. Here were the living quarters of those that once kept the library. The marks of bloodshed almost didn't exist here. Almost. There were still some deep scratches on the walls. Einkill practically jumped on the bed, letting his arms rest behind his head and breathing in deep. His muddy boots made a big mess on the sheets. **"Aye-Gut, that's it fer' a day."** Padlock simply sat on the bedside table. Oddly enough, he wasn't sleepy yet. **"I couldn't agree more. Where should we go tomorrow?"** Einkill laughed while closing his eyes, and letting out a big yawn. **"Dunno... Dinnae ye have Greenie fer' that?"** Padlock only raised his shoulders. He yawned as well. **"I guess you're right. If it were for me, I'd go to the big hill first."** Therr stared out of a nonexistent window. So, basically, sat with his scarred snout pressed against the white wall. Padlock noticed. **"Bud? You okay?"** Then, out of nowhere, the gnoll rammed his head into the wall so violently that a big circle the size of Padlock crumbled down. Now there was the dark-purpur glow of the nearly-night shining through the makeshift 'window'. Padlock jumped up a bit from surprise. It was always a wild-card with this gnoll. Einkill jumped awake and nearly fell off the bed in a wild flash, clutching his rapier tight before realising exactly what was going on. He laughed shortly and roughly at the gnoll who only looked over his shoulder and showed his fangs in return. **"I wanted to see night for lookout. Don't test me."** Einkill jumped off the bed with a leap. **"So, what? Ah can dae that too."** He cracked his knuckles, slightly leaned back when he stood besides Therr, and he too slammed the wall with such force that a hole, this time the size of one-and-a-half Padlock crumbled, colliding with the hole Therr had made before. Therr snuffed the damage while Einkill grinned and waved his hand in the cool air to un-tense the muscles. Therr gave what appeared to be a grin back. **"Strong hit. More space for lookout. Nice."** Einkill jumped back onto the bed he had claimed before Morg ran up with his morning-star in hand. You could hear his armour clang from downstairs. **"I heard a crumbling commotion. What happened?"**

Three of the four had dozed off to sleep. They had barred up the front door, just in case any gnolls had followed their scent and decided to break in, and made a plan shortly before they went to sleep to check out the hill when the morning came, and then be off to the gnolls to avenge Skrallingdjar and its citizens. But one did not sleep.

Padlock. 

He was still twisting his mind as to why he had become this way. With magic, though welcome, that he didn't ask for, one-and-a-half of a green sickening horn on his head that urged bad omens onto him, and a destiny about death that he was linked to but had no idea about, with only a rag-tag team of one huge savage beast, one smaller savage beast and one stone-faced religious zealot keeping him from harm. With thoughts, but no memory, of his past as a thief, this didn't help at all. He still wanted some answers. 

He silently jumped down from his seat on the bedside-table. And tip-toeing, he sneaked downstairs. He had seen some scrolls there that he thought could help. He could barely read, but something about the scrolls made him feel as if those had the answers he did seek. One lay forgotten beneath a pile of them on a bottom-row of the stone-bookcase, one lay still on a pool of blood. It had a slightly green glow on its edges. Padlock's hands prickled when he touched the thing. **"Great. Another stupid thing to do with my horn."** He snuck back upstairs, and none of them seemed to notice. They were all fast asleep. Padlock looked at the scrolls in his hands, and back into the room. It all had that odd tint of blue from seeing with his night-vision. **"Where to read them?"** He pondered silently. He knew here would not be a good idea. Not the green one, at least. He sighed, then held his breath when he heard a plump tapping against the wall. It was his tail. He nearly let out a groan of annoyance before holding both scrolls in one hand and gripping the end of his tail with the other. **"Almost forgot about that?"** The wind blew against him through the open 'window'. Padlock nodded, and shivered. It was cold, and his tattered robe did little more than hide his unmentionables. **"I need a place to read these. A place that won't harm my friends too much, so not too close."** The wind stopped for a second, then it turned, pulling Padlock's dark-purple hairs in the direction of the walls of Skrallingdjar. **"There. Find a high-up spot the gnolls won't reach you."** Said the wind, only to him. Padlock squinted. **"Are they here... Again? Don't they ever just-"** \- **"I'd better not tell you now. Do you want the spot to read or not?"** Mr. Wind hummed. Padlock sighed, closed his eyes and let go off his tail. **"Sure."** - **"Then go."** And the wind lay. Padlock figured out what to do. He took off the robe. It wouldn't be much of use to him right now. He carefully stepped over Therr, who was laying by the 'window'... And he snarled and blinked, his one bright-yellow eye glowing in the dark-red moonlight. Padlock almost panicked. He'd rather not want his friends to know what he was doing, for their own safety. So he pressed a finger against his mouth and went **'Sssshhh'.** And, lo and behold, Therr wide-eyed pressed his own hairy paw-finger against his muzzle and went **'Ssshhrrrr.'** Padlock smiled. **"I'll be off to get some new clothes. You stay here and tell them nothing."** He whispered. His bright-white eyes met the gnoll's. The gnoll only nodded. **"Okay. Go safe. Gnolls around maybe... I come with you?"** Padlock shook his head. **"I have to go alone. I'll be right back."** Without another word Padlock jumped out of the 'window', into the streets. A soft landing, as he remembered to bend his knees and roll after the drop, from instinct. He walked off, and Therr waved at him. There was no cackle of howl in the air, for now.

Padlock walked through the silent streets with one scroll in each hand. Despite all the carnage that had happened here, he found this place, in the dead of the night, to be oddly relaxing, in stillness after death. He didn't know if that was the green horns talking or himself. He'd only wished to walk through Skrallingdjar when it was more, well... Alive. **''Shucks.''** He sighed. **''Well, that sort of stuff can only happen here, it seems.''** He laughed it off as he walked around the town square. The broken-down statues, placed here and there, one around every bend, he thought, were telling him a story of prospering in times and places as dire as this. A story told by muted mouths, with years of delay, heard on deaf ears.   
Padlock quickly walked on, until he found a building with fallen baskets in front of it. He knew what that meant. **''A shop.''** He grinned. **''They must still have some stuff. Sweet.''** His thief-instinct bubbled up, and nearly he forgot that the horns on him even existed. For a small moment, he was once again a thief. One of opportunity, one of chance. The wind blew hard. It felt icy cold. He quickly went inside. The cold night did not reach him here.   
And right he was. Inside the shop, when he put down the scrolls somewhere on the corner of a table, he found a scarecrow, leaning lonely against a wall. He found it by accident, as it was almost hidden and ignored until his tail bumped against it, and it fell over. All that the shop had in stock lay scattered on the floor. The food, too. Breads, fruits and whatnot. No meat. Padlock scoffed. **''Gnolls.''**

The scarecrow was surprisingly untouched, and Padlock took that fact with utmost gratitude.   
A few moments later, he had donned the clothes of the scarecrow, and tossed his own ceremonial robes to the floor like the useless red scraps they were. A checkered red-and-blue vest, with a kilt-like cloth covering his lower side down to his knees. Now at least, he had proper protection from the elements, and the marking on his chest was no longer seen. He'd almost forgotten about that thing, too. Although, it had become itchier the more days went by. But that, plus the tail and the horns on his head, that was something to worry about for another day. The hill, the gnolls, and that bird-demon, those came first. Maybe, hopefully, they were linked, and could be pieced together so he could get rid of them. But for now, the reading. He grabbed the scrolls once more, and left the shop to find the place to read the scrolls in peace.

Padlock came across a stone bench, near the wall that the wind pointed him to. He tried sitting on it, but his tail was in the way. The wind blew.  
He walked onward, and came across a broken wall, which he tried sitting on to balance the weight of his tail. That didn't work either, for the small rocks sticking out of the wall were sharp and pointy. He walked onward once more. The wind still blew.   
Then, Padlock stumbled past what appeared to be a watchtower. It stood somewhere along the outer wall. Padlock's feet were getting tired and he _needed_ a place to read these books. With a lack of other options, he pondered about how he could get up this tower. There were no stairs, as the tower consisted of one stone column, and the wooden ladder used to climb up the tower lay broken on the ground before him. It was probably destroyed during the attack. He knew, he somehow knew this was the right spot. Even Mr. Wind let it be known, as he saw a gust spiralling upwards. **"Right. Here it is."** Padlock nodded, thanking the wind with a small salute of two fingers.   
Padlock thought and thought, walking around the watchtower again and again with the scrolls clenched in his hand. Then, he remembered.   
**''I've gotten over that chasm before too, haven't I? All I have to do is just- Turn into that bat-thing, and then I'm done!''** He kept his voice down, as he could still not be sure if what Mr. Wind said was true. Would the gnolls come back? He'd rather not risk that.   
So, with the scrolls laid on the ground, he braced himself and shivered as he felt himself turning into the bat-like beast from before, squeaking and chittering. But, he could feel his green horns were still there. They buzzed. It unsettled him. He flapped clumsily for a few moments before grabbing the two scrolls in his talons and flying upwards, spiralling up the watchtower and landing on its top with a thud.   
Right on his face. But, at least he was on the tower. And what a view! Fields, rolling hills and the aftermath of death and destruction as far as the eye could see. He saw no gnolls, but damn, could he _smell_ them. Thanks to the wind.   
**''Need to work on that landing.''** He joked to himself. Nobody but the night seemed to hear. and he opened the first scroll, the one with the green lining, and began reading. 

Not to his surprise, Padlock understood nothing of the dark ink scribbled on the scroll. It was filled to the brim with inch upon inch of manic scribbling, strange symbols and unsettling figures that brought a chill up Padlock's spine. He kept rolling the thing down, it was longer than he expected, with an upset feeling in his gut which only grew as he kept reading, reading but not comprehending, until he came to the lower edge of the scroll. It was only covered in black ink, sprawled over the page with crude yet unnerving precision. Even the corners were covered, but still in that eerie green hue. As Padlock tried making sense of this wreck of a scroll, he once again heard a pesky buzz coming from his horns. It seemed to be wanting to say something to him, yet it only sounded like blood rushing through his head. He touched the black ink, and suddenly felt his hand being scorched in everything but physical form. Something painfully stung his hand and forced him to hold the crackling paper still while the dark page was suddenly being filled, line by rigid line, in a sickening green light. Light that came from the green that flushed from Padlock's own veins.  
It formed the shape of a horned demon-like being, with eyes that were but one colour, a tail of spikes, baring what appeared to be a gauntlet with ghastly whips around it. He had seen that demon before. On the stone slab, also in green. His name sounded in his head but it couldn't get out. Padlock could not move his hand from the scroll, no matter how hard he tried yanking it away. It was only when the green out of his hand sprawled a name beneath the demon that he could let go:

 **''Unuthar, The Only True God, The Shameless, Bane of Rulers and Ruler of the Bane, Spiked Bringer of Faith. Swiftly may he return to join us in eternal flesh.''**  
  
The horns on Padlock's head felt like they were tearing off his scalp from the rest of his skull and his heart thumped. He felt like retching up. He crumpled the accursed scroll, threw on the ground and stepped on it, trying to get rid of it once and for all.  
He looked on with a mix of relief and bewilderment when he stomped straight into a small heap of black-green ash and dust. It wafted away into the wind. Far into the fields it went, following the trail of the gnolls. A sign.  
It took Padlock a while to feel good enough to talk again. **''What... The hell?''** He asked himself. The sting on his hand was all but gone, which he was very grateful for. No veins on his hand, at least nothing green. After that... Happening, he almost felt hesitant to unroll the second scroll.  
But he knew that if he wanted answers, he needed to.

This scroll was fragile, brittle. As if it had been handed from person to person over the centuries, and as if the scroll knew Padlock would be the last.   
It had a few cuts, rips, tears and splotches, but most of it was legible. Sometimes a little piece of paper was stuck to the long scroll, as a side-note.. Those few things that he could read, he studied with all the attention he could muster.   
It looked like a diary, or maybe a journal. Perhaps a hymn, of some sorts? Whatever it was, this couldn't have been written by a normal human's hand. He rolled and rolled and read and read until he reached the one text that struck his mind the most.   
It was written with a blood-red ink, on a tar-black part of the scroll.  
  
 **''And when the One who is The Only Truth,  
Spreads out from the Mounts of Choul,   
And entrusts only those of his Faith that he deems of worth,   
That is when the Tarred Dragon will sprout from his cracked egg,  
To lead and spread us ever on.''**

So read the first verse. Padlock shuffled himself as he read on, leaning against the edge of the tower. He didn't care. This scroll was already infinite times better than the previous, mostly because this one did not burn his hand in the slightest. In fact, it only blew his mind. It left a fuzzy feeling in his head. A wise feeling. A thrill of sudden bursts of wisdom rolling down his spine. The wind blew around the tower once more. He gulped, leaned back even more against the edge, and read the second verse as the world seemingly slid away around him.  
  
 **''Thus when our Lord has been made flesh,  
The hands on his horns will take their shape,  
Also to become the flesh moulded into flesh,   
To become He Who Evokes,  
And He Who Gathers.  
They, the hands on Unuthar's bright horns,   
They become Riapsed and Modugno,   
And They shall help our Lord claim and keep,  
What is rightfully ours to keep.''  
**

Second verse. This one slightly more unnerving. The unsettling buzz in his horns came back, but this was nothing compared to the earlier scroll. Padlock's eyes were fixed on the words now. They addled him, entangled his mind with the letters. These texts had turned his world upside-down. Was this how he came to be? Who'd written this? Why was it here? He had so many questions that this book didn't answer. But alas, a third verse remained. He rolled the scroll down again, and read on as he felt the sweat run up his spine. Every muscle inside him tensed up and his eyes were wide open against the paper that was now almost glued to his hands, and to his eyes.  
He read on in the search of answers.

**''So when the forlorn soul has been made of flesh,  
And kissed with the waters of a thousand-found guilt,   
Struck in the heart and hit with the gift,  
Then that soul is reborn to us as Unuthar,   
Reborn on the horned tops on the northern altar,   
And that soul shall once again find its way to the Dark Mountain,  
Where Unuthar once arose before,   
With the horde of lesser demons, our siblings, under its command,  
And they, our siblings in all but name, shall aid us,  
In rebirthing The Evoker and The Gatherer in a same amount of blood. And they, in turn, shall rebirth Him. So it shall be.''**

Padlock looked up from the last line of the tattered scroll when he heard a canid howl, far off into the night. He saw something duck away into the tall grass. The grasslands far away from Skrallingdjar's walls... Were upside down. And when he looked at himself he wondered how the hell he spent all this time reading, subconsciously dangling from this watchtower, on his own tail.   
No longer being enthralled by the verses brought him back to his senses. He was glad not to be completely under this 'Only True God's'' control. He climbed back onto the railing of the tower, and breathed in the cold night air. He had answers. 

As far as he could comprehend, he was the result of a ritual gone wrong. **"Unuthar, or whatever they call him- Urgh..."** A buzz on his horns. It was best to not say that name again. **"Some weird cultists or priests in his name tried bringing that green guy back into my body... Why mine? I don't know."** He walked circles in the little space of the tower he had. He held the scroll behind his back, and his tail afloat. **"Then there was something about... Görne, and a dragon-egg. And... That green guy, _whose name we won't call,_ "** He growled at the horns in an attempt to silence their buzzing. "And they both have to do with some dark Mountain. And demons. Grand." He clenched his fists as he looked out into the fields of the night, putting his hands together and wringing them as if they were wringing a towel. **"And then I'll squeeze the rest of the answers out of that weird bird-guy-...."** His boiling anger was put to a stop. Too deep in his thoughts, he'd forgotten he still held the scroll in his hands. Now it flew in tiny pieces on the ground, twirling down like very small leaves. **"Oh. Shit."**

Padlock gathered his thoughts. **''Well then, I best better get back before the sun comes up. The others need to know this.''**. Padlock thought of wether or not to go down yet, for he saw close to him the walls he could walk on, and another, taller tower. And only now did he realise just how tired that green disgusting text-trouble had made him.  
 **''A couple more minutes of rest couldn't hurt.''** He thought to himself, as he once more turned into the leathery bat-like beast, with the horns, flying to the tallest tower in Skrallingdjar, which overlooked the entire city. Padlock could see where he and his friends had come from here: The city gates. He saw the hill this city was built against, its height nearly aligning with the crumbled temple up top. **"Strange..."** He squeaked. But only he could understand. **"We haven't seen the temple on top of that hill from down below... I wonder if the gnolls got there as well."** He even saw the library from here. Which was good, for now he had a vantage point. He leaned back, hanging on to what was left of the tower, taking a couple of deep breaths and watching the smoke cloud upwards from his mouth.   
He laughed as he couldn't help but remember the times he had overlooked a bustling, living city like this, when he was still a thief. But, of course, not in a bat-form like this. Old memories bubbled up, but they were stuck under a ooze-like layer of forgetfulness. But those memories weren't important now. Other things needed to be done first before he could go back to that life, if ever.   
He had come far. Now, he had to go even further.

For now, Padlock silently stared out into the night, waiting for morning to come. 

(Boy, am I glad I had part of this saved somewhere else. -Orgro )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also decided to update this too, cause I forgot. The longer these get the harder these get to write, and thus longer it will take. Thanks for being so patient.


End file.
